


A Very Merry Geronimo Christmas

by RebellingStagnation, RubberSoles19



Series: Geronimo Series [9]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon), DuckTales (Cartoon 1987), Goof Troop
Genre: 31 days of christmas, Christmas, Family, Gen, Month Long Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-02-09 03:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 41,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12878784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebellingStagnation/pseuds/RebellingStagnation, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubberSoles19/pseuds/RubberSoles19
Summary: 31 Christmas themed drabbles within my "Geronimo" universe. These take place after "Living On A Prayer." Rated T for Negaduck's language.





	1. "Joy To The World" by Whitney Houston

**Author's Note:**

> This first fic is dedicated to Amelia, without whom this wouldn't exist. And to LeviPrime who asked for the Goof family to interact with the Darkwing family. 
> 
> This takes place the Christmas season immediately following "Living On A Prayer."

A smile still tugging at the corners of her beak, Gosalyn closed the front door behind her and walked out onto the porch, pulling her coat more securely around her. She breathed in the frigid air as she studied the splendor of the yard that stretched before her, colored lights and candy canes shining against the dark night.

When they'd first arrived here, Gosalyn had attempted to stifle her laughter at the sight of the yard decorations, but Launchpad and her father hadn't been as successful at keeping their thoughts to themselves.

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

"Whoa," Launchpad said as he shifted the car into park and killed the engine. "Those are some intense Christmas decorations."

"He likes Christmas," Gosalyn explained, her smile spreading as she studied the yard.

"No, no," her father said, shaking his head. " _I_ like Christmas. This is… another level."

"He's passionate," Launchpad offered, glancing over at his friend.

Drake shrugged. "I was thinking more _deranged_ , but you're not wrong, LP."

The house had been decorated with great care. A plastic Santa sat in his sleigh on the roof, plastic reindeer hooked up to the front. The Christmas lights were color coordinated with large colored bulbs lining the roof and white icicle lights cascading over the sides. The porch's railing had garland wrapped around it, and the trees in the yard were decorated with colored string lights. The yard was outlined with plastic glowing candy canes and sitting in the middle was an inflatable snowman, waving with one hand and holding his top hat atop his head with the other. A larger than life wreath had been hung over the garage, white lights and colored bulbs sitting in the branches.

It was organized, clean, and adorable. This homeowner clearly loved the holiday and had spent a great deal of time and effort to put it all together.

" _Please_ be nice to my boyfriend's father," Gosalyn said, opening the car door.

"Give me _some_ credit," Drake said as he opened the passenger door and climbed out. "I wasn't going to say any of that to his face."

" _Dad_ ," Gosalyn warned.

The front door opened, revealing Max and his father, Goofy. Gosalyn's stomach did that flipping over itself thing it always did when she saw Max. He caught her eye and smiled, her stomach doing several somersaults in a row, which was new, but in a good way.

Goofy loped down the yard-turned-winter-wonderland, but about half way down, slid on some ice and slipped and slid all the way to their car. He ended up toppling down in front of Gosalyn, snow scattering everywhere. Goofy shook his head and glanced up, smiling. She crouched down and grabbed ahold of his arm, helping him stand.

"It sure is nice to finally meet ya," Goofy said, giving her the biggest grin she'd ever seen on anyone ever.

Gosalyn smiled in return. "Same. Max talks about you all the time."

Goofy's eyes shone as they studied her face. "Yer even prettier than he said."

Gosalyn smiled, heat rising in her cheeks. Desperate to get the attention off of her, she motioned back to her family. "This is Launchpad, a family friend."

Goofy shook hands with Launchpad, both of them exchanging words of greeting.

Gosalyn then pointed to Drake. "And my father, Drake Mallard."

Drake walked around the car and stepped onto the sidewalk, shaking Goofy's hand. "Hello, Mr. … _Goof_ was it?"

"How was your drive, Mr. Mallard?" Max asked, approaching the group. He nodded to Launchpad and Drake in greeting before wrapping an arm around Gosalyn.

"Long," Drake said. With a look from Gosalyn, he added, "But fine."

"Thanks fer comin' out all this way," Goofy said.

"I liked the drive," Launchpad confessed. "I've never been to Spoonerville before."

"What do you think so far?" Max asked.

"Seems quiet and peaceful." Launchpad smiled. "I liked all the decorations that were up downtown."

"Speakin' of decorations," Goofy said, motioning back to his house, "whaddya think?"

"It's very, uh… _festive_ ," Drake said.

As if on cue, one of the colored strands of lights from the roof fell, dangling off the edge and mixing with the white icicles.

"Oh, hold on," Goofy said, picking his way up the driveway and disappearing into the garage. The door rolled open a moment later, Goofy carrying out a ladder and a staple gun.

"Want some help?" Launchpad asked, moving to do just that, but Drake placed a hand on his sidekick's arm to halt his progress.

"Step aside, LP," Drake said, walking up the driveway. "Christmas lights take an _expert_ hand. Allow me," he said to Goofy before scurrying up the ladder and atop the roof. He reached for the fallen light strand and brought it back up.

Goofy followed up the ladder, stretching to hand Drake the staple gun, but he missed a step and toppled sideways. He grabbed the Christmas lights before falling off the ladder completely, getting tangled in the colored strands as the ladder collapsed onto the lawn. Drake reeled backwards, trying to avoid the rogue power tool, and landed on his backside with the staple gun crashing beside him, sliding down and settling into the gutter.

Launchpad hurried over to the hectic scene, but Gosalyn and Max shook their heads smiling fondly at their fathers. Launchpad easily righted the ladder and reached up to get Goofy untangled. Once Goofy was free and back on his feet, Launchpad handed the fallen Christmas light strands to Drake, who had reclaimed the staple gun and was working on securing them better to the roof.

Gosalyn and Max, his arm still wrapped securely around her, wandered up the yard to join their families.

Everything back to rights, Drake descended the ladder as Launchpad held it in place and handed the staple gun back to Goofy.

"Yeh sure are an expert at hangin' them Christmas lights," Goofy said, studying the work. "Looks great!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Drake said, jumping down and brushing snow off the sleeves of his coat. "Christmas decorating isn't for the feint of heart."

The same light strand that had fallen before fell again.

Max snorted as Gosalyn turned to her boyfriend and asked, "You got any electrical tape?"

"Sure do," Max said, taking the staple gun from his father and walking into the garage.

Gosalyn turned to the older generation of men. "Why don't you all go inside? Max and I got this."

"You sure?" Launchpad asked.

"I may be no _expert_ ," Gosalyn said, glancing at her father who rolled his eyes, "but I think I can get that strand to stay on the house."

"Well, holler if you need anythin'," Goofy said, smiling as he opened the front door and ushered Drake and Launchpad inside.

Gosalyn and Max hadn't needed help. The electrical tape had kept the lights from falling again and the two of them had been able to clean everything up with minimal fuss.

So how the kitchen had been completely covered in flour by the time they'd gotten inside was anyone's guess. Goofy and Launchpad were equally as dirty as the kitchen, with smudges of flour on their faces and smeared over their clothes, but they were both wearing smiles. Drake was less messy, somehow, but looked resigned.

Gosalyn was just glad they were all getting along.

When Max had offered to have them all over for dinner, she'd been wary to see how her father would react to these new surroundings, but he seemed to relax more and more as the night went on. He kept an eye on Max and Gosalyn, but he seemed to like Goofy well enough, even if some of the clumsy accidents caused the crime fighter to sigh or roll his eyes.

Launchpad and Goofy, though, were already acting like long time friends, laughing at the same jokes and telling stories about their families, much to everyone's chagrin. When Goofy had offered to show baby pictures of Max, Launchpad and Gosalyn had both shown interest while Max and Drake emphatically refused to see them.

Overall, it was a successful night.

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

The front door opened and Gosalyn glanced back to see Max slipping out onto the porch.

"Sorry about all that crazy," Max said, walking over to her with that adorable lopsided smirk on his face.

Gosalyn forgot about the cold as she turned to face him, feeling heat rise in her cheeks as he came closer. " _That_ is not crazy."

Max's cocked an eyebrow as he reached her.

"No, really," Gosalyn insisted. "Villains trying to steal Christmas lights or grow their own mistletoe or replace a whole store with their own homemade toys, _that's_ crazy. You're dad's just a little clumsy."

"A little?" Max asked.

Gosalyn smirked. " _A lot_ clumsy. But he's very sweet."

He nodded. "I feel kind of weird talking about my dad so much. Shouldn't we talk about something else?"

"Like…?" Gosalyn pressed.

"Like… how non-crazy and non-clumsy _I_ am?"

Gosalyn rolled her eyes. "Now you're fishing for compliments."

"Fishing is under-appreciated." Max took a step closer.

"Nothing that takes place outside is ever _under_ -appreciated." She smiled, his body heat already warming her with how close he was.

"It's not _so_ bad." He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

Gosalyn tilted her head to one side. "There's a reason people built homes. We aren't supposed to live outside. It's unnatural."

"It's called 'nature'. What's _more_ natural?" His hand came up to caress her cheek.

"Indoor plumbing, central heating, frozen dinners…" Gosalyn buried her hands in his jacket, desperate to keep them warm.

"Frozen dinners? You're not really convincing me." His brown eyes were soft as he gazed down at her.

"I could say the same, mountain man." She fisted the material of his jacket and tugged him even closer.

"Maybe I can take you fishing sometime. Change your mind?" He dipped his head down and pressed his forehead to hers.

She smiled. "That's very ambitious of you."

He grinned, his mouth a breath away from hers. "I like a challenge."

She closed her eyes in anticipation, but in the next moment, a small cold object hit Max on the back of his skull, causing them both to stiffen and stand up straight.

"Ow," he muttered, bringing up a hand to massage his head as Gosalyn saw the remnants of what could only have been a snowball crumbling around his shoulders. She brushed the snow off, her eyes darting over Max's shoulder to eye the roof of the neighbor's — Pete's, right? — house. She didn't see anything that would confirm her suspicions one way or another, but she _definitely_ saw some movement in the shadows, which caused her to roll her eyes.

" _That's_ my crazy," she explained, returning her gaze to Max to make sure he hadn't been injured.

Max stopped massaging his head to look at her, his expression curious. "That was…?"

"Negaduck."

"Well, if that's the worst he'll do, I think I can handle myself," Max said, his smile back in place.

Gosalyn eyed him. "It's definitely not the _worst_ he can do."

Max shrugged. "It's probably the worst he'll do to _me_ , right? Since he knows you like me."

She considered this for a moment before nodding. Negaduck was starting to tolerate Drake and Launchpad because he knew how much they meant to her. Max could probably join that category. Eventually. After Negaduck had gotten used to him.

Max's eyes softened, the brown warm and inviting. "Then it's worth it."

Blushing, Gosalyn wound her arms around his neck and buried her fingers in his hair. Tugging him down, she said, "Good answer."

Max's light chuckle was swallowed into their kiss, Gosalyn keeping Max close, knowing Negaduck wouldn't try anything else with her in the line of fire.

The thought of Max willing to stand up and fight for her — to the Lord of the Negaverse no less — chased away the last of the lingering cold.


	2. "Caroling, Caroling" by Nat King Cole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For SelyneNightshade, who asked for a Negaduck meets Max story.

He didn’t have the strength for this. It had taken him six years to adjust to this whole "Christmas" thing. No amount of time would prepare him for _caroling_. 

It was his own personal hell, going up to stranger’s homes, singing a Christmas song with a sappy grin, and then wishing these strangers “the compliments of the season” and going to the next house to do it _all over again_. 

Not that Negaduck was caroling. He wouldn’t be caught _dead_. 

And apparently all Drake Mallards felt similarly because Dipwing Dork looked pretty damn miserable hunched over in his parka, scowling darkly, and grinding his teeth. Lilypad was blissfully unaware of Dumbwing’s dark mood, going door to door with a grin on his big stupid beak, Scrooge McDuck and his brood (the three triplets, the weird girl that tagged along with them everywhere, his nephew… Donson? Daniel? and his girlfriend) not far behind. Two mice fleshed out the group along with a towering dog. Negaduck suspected that was who Gosalyn called “Goofy” and what kind of name was _that_? But Negaduck’s attention was focused on the two carolers bringing up the rear. 

Gosalyn and Max Goof. 

Her _boyfriend_. 

Things must be going well if Max had convinced her to go caroling. 

Or he was blackmailing her into doing this, in which case, Negaduck would get rid of him. Forever. And not even feel _bad_ about it. 

Crouching in between two cars parked along the sidewalk, Negaduck pressed up against the cold metal and removed his fedora, trying to become one with the shadows. 

The group of carolers passed by him, all chattering and thumbing through song books, none the wiser for his presence. Negaduck practically held his breath as Gosalyn passed; if anyone would catch onto his hiding place, it would be her. Or Dorkwing if he could be bothered to focus on anything other than his own humiliation. 

“I’m gonna go check on Dad,” Gosalyn said as she passed, proving that she and Negaduck had great minds since they thought alike. “I haven’t seen him this upset since the Muddlefoots brought home their new snowblower and covered our lawn in four feet of snow.” 

Max chuckled, the bastard, and kissed Gosalyn on the forehead. “Go. Save the day.” 

Gosalyn smiled. She might’ve actually _blushed_ but Negaduck must be imagining things. Because Gosalyn didn’t _blush_. She was strong and sure. 

“I might just save all of Christmas,” Gosalyn said with a soft smile. 

“If anyone could, it would be you.” 

Gosalyn’s smile grew into a grin before she walked on ahead to the larger group, reaching for her father. Max lingered behind, a faraway expression on his face. 

And Negaduck pounced. 

Jumping up and grabbing the front of Max’s jacket, Negaduck dragged him back down between the two parked cars. Negaduck figured he had about 60 seconds, maybe 90, before anyone realized Max was gone. 

Shoving Max up against the trunk of the car, Negaduck snarled, “Listen up punk, if you—”

“Finally,” Max breathed, some relief pouring over his features. 

Frowning, Negaduck cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” Max said. “Figured you were in the area since you hit me with that snowball last night.” 

Negaduck opened his beak to snap some witty comeback, but couldn’t find any words. 

Max easily filled the silence. “Really, I’ve been waiting for this meeting for weeks. Months. And can I say? It’s an honor, sir, to meet you. That you care so much about Gosalyn to want to talk to me. I… um… do you know you’ve lost your hat, sir? Of course you do. You’re, I mean, you’re _Negaduck_.” Max swallowed, his eyes suddenly growing wide. “Okay. Yeah. You’re… you’re Negaduck. I um… clearly did not think this through all the way. Because you’re Nega—” 

“Shut up,” Negaduck hissed, pushing Max more firmly into the car. He was still reeling — who _was_ this guy? — but his purpose for being here resurfaced and refocused him. “Focus. You hurt Gosalyn, you do anything to make her unhappy, or I see a _single_ tear, you’re a _dead_ man. Got that? Or do you need me to put on my damned hat to make it more official?” 

Max snorted. “Gos hasn’t talked about your sense of humor, sir. Which is a shame.” 

Negaduck snarled and tightened his grip on Max’s jacket. The young man sobered, a flicker of fear flashing through his eyes. That was better. 

Max cleared his throat. “In all seriousness, sir, if Gos feels she has to go to _you_ to cope with something I did, I’d just turn myself over.” 

Negaduck eyed him. “You keep your promises?” 

“When they’re important to me, sir.” 

“Enough with the ‘sir’ already.” Negaduck glanced at the group of carolers. They were approaching their next house, Gosalyn walking arm in arm with Dopewing and talking to him. The mallard looked far less agitated, but his beak was still down in a tight frown. Negaduck probably had 30 more seconds. 

Glaring back at Max, he snarled, “I’ll be watching.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Max said with a careful nod. 

Negaduck narrowed his eyes. “What the hell is up with the caroling?” 

Max shrugged. “My dad does it every year with his friends. They invite their families along, so I thought Gos should invite hers.” 

“You disgust me,” Negaduck sneered. 

“I hope this isn’t too forward si— um… But, you really are funny.” 

With a low growl, Negaduck shoved Max back onto the sidewalk. The young man stumbled but did not fall. Straightening his jacket, he ambled toward the group of carolers as if nothing had happened. 

Negaduck had to hand it to the kid, he knew how to be discreet. And he understood Negaduck’s sense of humor. Which. Okay. 

He had to hate Max on principle, but he wasn’t at the _top_ of Negaduck’s shit list. 


	3. "Winter Wonderland" by Amy Grant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Bookworm Gal who asked for me to use the song "Winter Wonderland." Hope you like it!

“You balancing everything okay?” Launchpad asked, glancing up at Gos as he traced patterns into the snow. 

Smoothing more snow with her gloved hands, Gos raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t my first snowman.”

Launchpad shook his head. “I was talking about what we were discussing before. About your life with Negaduck back.” Because he knew Gos could build snowmen in her sleep. It was one of those activities she’d participated in every snowfall growing up. She’d gotten pretty good at it, too, even managing to recreate her friends and family out of the white powder. 

Today it was more generic. Your typical three-circles-stacked-on-top-of-one-another snowmen. Their walk through the park to admire the big Christmas tree and buy winter delicacies from local vendors had turned into _this_. 

To be honest, Launchpad had come for the hot chocolate from the mom and pop bakery _Sieving the Dream_. It redefined what hot chocolate should be. 

But their walk had dissolved into snowman building when they spotted some children doing it and had decided _why not?_. 

Gos didn’t answer him right away, smoothing the midsection of their snowman before piling more snow on for the head. “It’s… I have to get used to it again. If that makes sense? I was so used to traveling all the time to look for Negaduck. But now I don’t have to.” 

“Which DW likes,” Launchpad said.

Gos nodded, her fingers slowing as she rounded out the head. 

“Not that he was unhappy,” Launchpad said, seeing her hesitation. Wanting to put her at ease. “Just… he worries less now.” He huffed out a laugh. “Least not about you traveling around to different universes. I think he’ll always be worried about _something_. It’s in his nature.” 

Gos smiled before looking down at Launchpad. “Do you think this was all worth it? Befriending Negaduck?” 

Launchpad regarded her, dropping the stick he’d found and brushing the snow off his hands. “Do _you_ think it was?” 

She sighed, continuing to pack the snow tightly together. “Sometimes I wonder. Not about if I’d do it all over again, because I would, but I just never thought I’d _ever_ say that I love Negaduck, you know? I mean, he’s Dad’s enemy. His _arch-iest of arch nemeses_. And I _know_ that’s worn on Dad, my befriending Negaduck. I really don’t think I’d do anything different, but I wonder if Dad wishes I had.” 

Launchpad shook his head. “Nah. He thinks the _world_ of you, Gos. This is just who you are. You’re stubborn and don’t run away from problems. DW doesn’t want you to be any different.” Launchpad grinned. “Even if he _did_ get Negaduck as not-quite-an-enemy out of it.” 

Gos laughed, grabbing more snow and piling it on the snowman’s head, shaping it like a top hat. “It _is_ nice to not have to worry about traveling to other universes anymore.” 

“Sure is nice having you back for good. You and Negaduck. He’s not so bad.” 

Gosalyn smirked and smoothed out the hat. “Don’t let him hear you say that. Or Dad for that matter.” 

“That’s why I save it for our Christmas outing.” 

Ever since their sleigh ride four years ago, Launchpad and Gos set aside one day of the Christmas season for one another. It was a no-holds-barred day when they could talk about anything. 

Sure, throughout the year, they would still talk regularly. But there was something about their Christmastime tradition. A calm they both felt surrounded by snow, illuminated trees, and timeless carols. It was their favorite holiday. 

Gos grinned and traced a face onto the snowman’s head. “You’re smarter than Dad gives you credit for.” 

Launchpad shrugged, burying his hands into his pockets and observing their handiwork. “I know that I think more highly of DW than he thinks of me, but I also know that he doesn’t mean half the things he says.” 

Gos stepped back, tossing the stick back onto the ground, and weaving her arm through his. “We don’t deserve you, Launchpad.” 

“That’s the great thing about family. It’s not about deserving, it’s about deciding to stay.” 

Gos buried her head in Launchpad’s shoulder and he leaned down, resting his head atop hers. 

Their snowman was the roundest and most dapper, with the outlines of a suit and monocle drawn directly into the tightly packed snow.

Squeezing his arm, Gos glanced up. “Let’s get you some hot chocolate.” 

“No arguments here,” Launchpad said, leading her down the path toward the _Sieving the Dream_ cart, dozens of sparkling trees lighting the path before them. 


	4. "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree" by Brenda Lee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Amelia, who asked for Drake cutting down his Christmas tree.

Drake took a deep breath before exhaling mightily. “Ahhh. Do you smell that, Gos? The crisp winter air, the slight damp of the coming snow, the tang of pine…” 

“You can smell snow coming?” Gosalyn interrupted, studying her father out of the corner of her eye as she tugged her coat more securely around her. 

“All true outdoorsman can!” Drake insisted, puffing out his chest and tossing up his head proudly. 

Gosalyn smirked. “Well, tell me when one decides to show up.” 

Drake raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I’m a true—” 

“There’s not even a cloud in the sky,” Gosalyn pointed out. “But you can _smell_ the coming snow?” 

“Gosalyn, Gosalyn, Gosalyn,” Drake lamented, shaking his head. “I know the snow is coming the same way I know how to choose the best Christmas tree: years of experience, an intuitive connection with everything around me, and good old fashioned knowhow.” 

“He’s right, Gos,” Launchpad said. “Snow’s supposed to start falling around seven.” 

Gosalyn cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Drake. “That’s awfully specific.” She looked over to Launchpad. “How do _you_ know it’s gonna snow?” 

“We saw it on the news before we left.” 

“ _We_?” Gosalyn asked. 

Drake laughed nervously, gripping his axe in his gloved hands. “ _Look_ at all those trees all the way over there. I better, um, go pick the best one so we can get home before the snow hits.” 

“Oh, we got plenty of time, DW! There’s four hours until its supposed to start snowing—”

“Yes, _thank you_ , Launchpad,” Drake ground out, stomping down the hill towards the copse of trees he’d spotted. 

It didn’t _matter_ how he came by the information. It was enough just to _know_ a storm was coming. Really, the news had only confirmed his outdoorsman instincts that told him about the coming snow. It’s not like the news was right all the time, anyway. Just look at how they handled the coverage on his crime fighting; namely, there wasn't any. Which, when it came down to it, was the _real_ crime. Think of all the people he could _inspire_ and how many more citizens would sleep better knowing that the daring Darkwing Duck defended the downtown district from dangerous desperados. 

But no. They just confirmed a coming snow storm that Drake absolutely totally knew was coming before he watched the forecast.

Approaching the trees, Drake studied them carefully, taking into account height, width, the shade of green, and the shape of the trunk. No one said the life of an outdoorsman was glamorous, but Drake was willing to live the unglamorous life. The outdoor lifestyle was worth it. 

Circling around a perfectly proportioned pine, its crisp scent bringing a smile to Drake’s beak, he carefully eyed it for any flaws. And when he didn’t find any that alerted his keen sharpened outdoorsman instincts, he arranged his hands along the handle of the axe, balancing its weight evenly. 

“As any true outdoorsman will tell you,” he said to Gosalyn and Launchpad, who had followed him to the trees, “using an axe to cut down a tree is always the preferred method. It’s better for the bark and offers more consistency than a motorized tool.” 

“That’s not even _close_ to being true,” Gosalyn said. 

Drake scowled. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, not being a true outdoorsman yourself.” 

“I’m not outdoor _anything_ ,” Gosalyn said, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. “There’s a reason man invented homes; so he wouldn’t have to go outside. Can you please just get on with this cutting down the tree thing?” 

“You can’t rush nature, Gos.” Drake swung the axe back over his shoulder. “And in order to become a true outdoorsman,” he swung it down, the blade biting into the wood with a solid _thunk_ , “you have to become one with nature.” He swung it back. “Learn from her.” He hit the tree with a _thunk_. “Become apart of the surroundings.” Swing. “Absorb everything it has to teach you.” _Thunk_. “Why, just from sitting atop a hill or even in a park,” swing, “you’re already learning about nature.” Thunk. “The valuable lesson of the circle of life.” Swing. “How you should only take what you need, not what you want.” _Thunk_. “And most importantly,” swing, “patience.” _Thunk_.

“Whew!” Drake pulled the axe free and studied the trunk of the tree. “Thought I’d be farther along by now.” It had looked so easy in the online instructional videos. He’d recently become obsessed with cutting down their own Christmas tree and decided _this_ would be the year. 

But no one mentioned how much _work_ went into it. 

That didn’t matter, though. Nothing worth having was easily won. 

“You know,” Gosalyn said. “Negaduck carries a chainsaw with him.” 

“Oh, really? I had _no_ idea,” Drake grumbled, glancing back at his daughter. “Now, if you please, I need to concentrate.” Gripping the axe tighter, Drake began cutting the tree down with renewed strength. 

In between his steady rhythm of swing, _thunk_ , he heard Launchpad say, “A chainsaw would be helpful right now.” 

“Right?” Gosalyn said. “He never listens to me.” 

Embedding the axe deep into the trunk, Drake turned around to face the two, hands on his hips. “You are breaking my concentration! Unless you plan on helping, go stand over there where I can’t hear you.” 

With a glance to Launchpad, Gosalyn walked away, heading for the area her father had pointed towards. 

Drake glanced at Launchpad, who shrugged in response. He pointed at the pilot’s chest and asked, “You gonna keep your bill shut?” 

“If it helps.” 

“Good.” Drake turned back around and yanked the axe free. “Because I need silence to focus on my bonding time.” Swing. “It takes the departure from civilization,” _thunk_ , “and the silence of the woods around you,” swing, “to really bond with nature.” _Thunk_. “Once I fully connect to my surroundings,” swing, “I can become one with this tree.” _Thunk_. “Understand it,” swing, “down to its roots.” Thunk. “See the impact,” swing, “I am making,” _thunk_ , “by removing it,” swing, “from it’s woodsy home.” _Thunk_. “Show my,” swing, “appreciation,” _thunk_ , “for the sacrifice,” swing, “that’s being made.” 

When he started the downswing, the axe slipped from Drake’s hands and went flying. The momentum pulling him forward, Drake fell flat on his beak in a bank of snow. Launchpad yelped and ducked out of the way of the rogue axe. 

Propping himself up on his elbows, Drake spat out a beak-full of snow and glared at Launchpad. “Not a word,” he growled.

Launchpad disappeared into the trees after the axe, smothering his laughter. 

“You okay, Dad?” Gosalyn asked, jogging back over to him. 

“Never better!” Drake exclaimed, leaping to his feet before Gosalyn made it over. “All apart of the process of becoming one with our Christmas tree.” 

“Sorry, DW,” Launchpad said as he emerged from the trees. “No sign of your axe anywhere.” 

“The outdoors giveth and the outdoors taketh away,” Drake said forlornly. 

He wondered where he might be able to find another axe. Maybe there was a hardware store nearby. Or maybe he could fashion something out of his surroundings…. 

“Well, let’s taketh this tree away,” Gosalyn said, pulling out a small chainsaw from behind her back. “I’m freezing.” 

“Gosalyn!” Drake said, a hand coming up to rest over his heart, appalled. “A true outdoorsman would _never_ stoop so low as to use a—” 

“I’ll tell everyone you chopped the dumb tree down yourself,” Gosalyn promised. 

Drake grabbed the chainsaw. “And after only a few swings.” 

“Like the great outdoorsmen of old.” Gosalyn smirked. 

Drake smiled in return as he yanked the chainsaw to life. 

If a tree fell in the woods, and no one except his family was around to see it, did it really matter _how_ it was cut down?


	5. "Come On, Ring Those Bells" by Evie Tornquist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Tempest-loupnoir who asked for "Ring Those Bells." It's not quite the scene she had in mind, but I hope she still likes it!

When Gosalyn had approached him, hands tangled in one another and eyes wide, saying, “I overbooked,” Negaduck would never have imagined that it would lead to _this_. 

The Duckburg mayor beamed at him. “Right this way.” 

Negaduck glanced back to Gosalyn, thrown off as he always was when he saw her in her newly designed Quiverwing Quack costume. Cape-less. Just a jumpsuit and combat boots. She’d explained that it was a complicated combination of kevlar, leather, and spandex, but it was still just a jumpsuit and boots. 

No cape. 

No hat. 

Though, to be fair, she’d debated the hat from the beginning, so deciding she didn’t want it wasn’t a shock. 

As he caught sight of her now, Gosalyn smiled at him reassuringly and nodded. Which was enough to spur Negaduck onward, following Duckburg’s mayor up to the bell tower of City Hall. 

The mayor prattled on about the history of Duckburg, the Hall, its recent renovations, yada, yada, yada. Negaduck would _much_ rather kick at the man’s feet and shove him back down the staircase, but Gosalyn’s face, drawn and serious from their conversation a few days ago made him put one foot in front of the other instead. 

_“I overbooked,” she said, large eyes studying him carefully._

_Negaduck blinked. “O-okay.”_

_“It’s a habit!” she carried on, her hands flying wildly in front of her as she elaborated. “You and I had had six Christmases, and then you were_ gone _and I didn’t know if we’d ever have anymore holidays together. But I’d gotten used to spending some of Christmas with you and some of it with Dad. That first Christmas was… quiet. It just didn’t feel the same, so I started signing up for stuff. Kept myself busy. Tried to distract myself from the fact that you… that you weren’t here.” She took a deep breath before she continued._

_“I did that every year. If I wasn’t doing something with Dad or Launchpad, I was volunteering or in the Negaverse or going on trips or_ anything _to distract me from you not being here. And I guess people got used to me saying yes to things because even before this Christmas season started, I had a full schedule, and then I kept saying yes to things even though you’re back and I… I—”_

_“You overbooked,” Negaduck said, nodding as he finally understood._

_“I’m sorry,” she said, face crumpling, eyes falling to the ground. “I don’t know when I’ll_ sleep _let alone find time to celebrate with you. I can barely see Dad as it is—”_

_“Gos,” Negaduck said, taking a step closer. “It’s okay.”_

_“It’s_ not _,” she insisted, shaking her head vigorously. “Christmas is for_ family _and I don’t know how to make time to see mine.”_

_Feeling strangely light, Negaduck reached forward, slid a finger under her chin, and tilted her head up so she would meet his eyes. “You’ll go. You’ll do all the things you promised to do and enjoy your holiday. And if you find time to see me, that’s fine. And if you don’t, it’s still fine.”_

_“But I want you to be apart of—” She trailed off, her eyes focusing on something over his shoulder._

_Negaduck nearly sprang into action, assuming they were under attack. But a moment before he reached for his bazooka, which he kept on his person at all times anymore, Gosalyn grinned and focused back on him._

_“I’ll be back,” she said by way of explanation before scurrying out the door._

_Negaduck remained in the dark until the next day when Gosalyn reappeared wearing her Quiverwing costume and held out one of Darkwing’s suits, telling him to get dressed._

Mounting the last few stairs, Negaduck — dressed as his annoying double — was ushered into Duckburg’s bell tower by the mayor himself. 

“Well, here we are!” the mayor said, gesturing to the massive golden plated bells. If Negaduck wasn’t here to ring in the official start of the Christmas season, he would be plotting how to steal these. 

Hell, he was thinking about it _now_. 

“Impressive, aren’t they?” the mayor preened. 

“Bigger than I thought,” Negaduck muttered, circling the bells and studying them carefully. While they would be of no practical use to him, maybe he should steal one to see the _chaos_ that would ensue after. 

And for the challenge of it. 

These bells would not be stolen easily. 

“If I had a dollar for every time I heard _that_!” the mayor said, chuckling. He took out an honest-to-badness pocket watch to check the time. 

And. 

Wait. 

Who used a _pocket watch_ anymore? The timepiece was probably really expensive or an heirloom or something…. 

“Well, it’s almost time,” the mayor said, tucking his damn pocket watch away and grinning at Negaduck. “You two will need to pull on the rope together.” He pointed to the largest of the bells, a red velvet rope hanging down from the center. 

Gosalyn crossed the room, grabbed Negaduck’s hand and dragged him after her. “Just tell us when,” she said with a smile.

They took hold the rope and waited, Gosalyn leaning close to Negaduck to whisper, “Get that look off your face. This isn’t a job.” 

“I don’t think that was ever specified in my contract,” Negaduck said, glaring at the mayor as he pulled out that dumb watch again.

“Not. A. Job,” Gosalyn reiterated. 

“I am suddenly unfilled with the Christmas spirit,” Negaduck groused. 

Gosalyn snorted which caused a pleased smirk to curl Negaduck’s beak up. They were both smiling when the mayor grinned his toothy grin and told them to ring the bells. 

And, yeah, ringing bells while dressed as Darkwing to usher in the Christmas season in Duckburg wasn’t _anywhere_ on Negaduck’s bucket list. 

But he got to spend a few hours with Gosalyn. 

And he managed to swipe a half-way decent pocket watch out of it. 


	6. "Feliz Navidad" by José Feliciano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is just because I'm obsessed with ¡Viva Navidad! and the Three Caballeros.

You gain a new appreciation for home when you are away from it. Gosalyn knew this to be true from all her adventures to various parallel universes. 

And from her most recent trip to Mexico. 

Donald had been the one to extend the invitation, saying his friend Panchito Pistoles had invited him down to partake in a Mexican Christmas and if Launchpad was willing to fly them down there, he could bring his family (i.e. Gosalyn and Drake) along, too. And Launchpad had enthusiastically accepted. 

When they’d arrived, they’d all found out that not only had Panchito been awaiting their arrival, but so had Donald’s Brazilian friend, José Caricoa, a colorful parrot. 

Panchito was the perfect host, shepherding the group (Donald, his nephews, Webby, Launchpad, Drake, Gosalyn, and José) around his hometown and celebrating a traditional Mexican Christmas with them. 

Honestly, Gosalyn remembered the trip in snapshots, having been so caught up in all the festivities and the food and parties. But she’d taken enough photos to fill the gaps in her memory. 

“This is the town square. The Christmas tree in the middle has ornaments that the citizens hand made. And it’s hard to see, but there are poinsettias covering the ground from the tree to the fence there.” 

Negaduck studied the photo in silence, his expression the same as it had been from the first picture of the street markets with all their vibrant colors. It hadn’t changed when Gosalyn had described the Pastorelas they had seen that had echoed with laughter. Maybe she’d gotten the translation wrong. She had only taken Spanish in high school after all; she had only been able to understand the gist of conversations as it was and it was better in person. 

And now, as Gosalyn detailed their final night when they had been apart of Las Posadas in Panchito’s neighborhood, Negaduck was as unresponsive as before. 

Yes, Gosalyn _might_ have misinterpreted the Pastorelas. Maybe she wasn’t a great photographer or storyteller. But Mexico had been filled with color, laughter, and a beauty to Christmas she’d never seen. 

And Negaduck’s lack of reaction wasn’t going to take that away from her. 

Tucking her phone into her lap, she said, “If you’re not interested, we can talk about something else.” 

Negaduck glanced up to her, eyes studying her face. He did that a lot ever since he’d returned from Oblivion, the parallel universe he’d been trapped in for the past three years. He was quieter. More contemplative. More likely to study Gosalyn than he had been before. 

He cocked his head to one side. “You think I’m not interested.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

“I know you get… territorial when I bring up Dad. Me telling you about a trip I took with him…. I understand. Is all I’m trying to say.” 

Negaduck nodded and settled back into his broken down couch. “How was the culture shock?” 

Gosalyn shrugged. “Panchito and José were good about explaining anything we asked about. It was easier for me to adjust, I think, because this time I just got to be myself when I traveled, you know? I didn’t have to figure out a parallel universe and all its rules. I didn’t have to worry about searching for the different versions of myself or Dad or Launchpad or you. I knew you were safe here at home, so I didn’t have to look for you. I was just a tourist. I got to look around and shop and see the sights like a normal person.”

Negaduck went still, eyes zeroed in on her. 

What had caused him to look so taken aback? 

Had it been when she’d brought up her father? Or Launchpad? 

What had she _said_?

Gosalyn didn’t remember it being so _hard_ to be with Negaduck before Oblivion. He’d always been a little unpredictable and sensitive to certain topics, but it hadn’t been like this. 

It was like they’d regressed to the beginning of their relationship, Negaduck hesitant and revealing nothing personal, Gosalyn cautious and carefully avoiding anything that would cause him to shut down. 

But.

She’d gotten Negaduck to trust her once. 

She could do it again. 

“You, um,” Negaduck cleared is throat (she really must have messed up if he couldn’t even find his voice). “What… what was your process for multi-universal travel?” 

Oh. 

He hadn’t yet heard about the three years she’d spent in constant travel looking for him. He’d pieced together some details, but they didn’t talk about it. Talking about what Gosalyn had done during their separation would likely lead to what Negaduck had done. And she knew he wanted to forget as many details about Oblivion as he could, so she didn’t dredge any of that up if she could avoid it.

“Do you really want to talk about that?” Gosalyn asked, keeping her tone casual. Letting him know he was okay with whatever decision he made. 

Negaduck released a small sigh then nodded once.

And so she told him. 

Maybe she’d circle back to Mexico one day. Probably in random recollections and recovered memories. 

But for now, she filled in some of the space that kept them apart over the last three years.


	7. "Twelve Days Of Christmas" by Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard the song and this scene wrote itself.

Launchpad didn’t know why there were so many birds associated with Christmas, but here they were on day seven. With seven small porcelain swans and large red bows tied around their long necks. 

Here he’d thought the six geese had been bad. 

Peering at the swans on their mantle, Launchpad asked, “How many more birds should I be expecting?” 

“None, thank goodness,” Gos said from the couch where she was hunkered down with her laptop. “All I’ve had so far is stupid _birds_. But the last half is so gonna make up for this avian wave.” 

She was typing furiously, not even looking up at him as she spoke. Launchpad was always so impressed with how good Gos was with technology. Her fingers flew across keyboards with ease, always knowing exactly what button to push, or what feature to tap on her phone, _and_ she had mastered sending him moving pictures in text messages. He was still adjusting to the latest update when all his apps had changed colors. Sure, he could text and type, but he was slow compared to Gos. 

And he’d learned to _not_ go to DW for any technological help. The mallard talked a big game and seemed to learn things more quickly than Launchpad, but DW was often as clueless on something as his sidekick. 

_“Hey, DW, how do you take a picture of your phone screen?”_

_DW turned to face him, a smug look on his face. Launchpad immediately regretted his question._

_“You came to the right duck, LP,” DW said, traipsing over to his sidekick and taking out his phone. “It’s called a_ screenshot _.” He unlocked his phone. “And you take one just like so.” The screen went dark._

_“Oops!” DW said, glancing at the device. “Must’ve hit that power button too hard, there. Let’s try this again. If my phone will unlock. I swear, technology never works when you want it to. Read my feather-print you—”_

_“Okay, I’ll remind you to finger-paint tomorrow,” came a female voice from the phone itself. Launchpad took a step back as DW started having a conversation. With his phone._

_Gos ended up showing him how to screenshot later._

“Y’sure are typin’ fast,” Launchpad said, looking over to Gos. 

“Listen, tracking down ten of _anything_ is a feat, not to mention when it’s ten lords who are supposed to be jumping.” 

“I think they’re leaping,” Launchpad pointed out. 

“Which the internet had _less_ results for, so here we are at _jumping_.” 

Launchpad walked over to the couch and sat beside Gos, peering at her computer screen. “Is that the guy from _Shrek_?” 

Gos grinned. “Farquaad needs to be jumping, or have the ability to jump, and I’ll bring ten of him into this house.” 

What had started as an innocent “this was so stupid I had to get it and show you” gift from DW had exploded into a Christmas competition between father and daughter. Using the Twelve Days of Christmas as their guide, they brought home the most ridiculously gaudy items, trying to out-gift the other from the day before. The unsuspecting felt partridge in the plastic pear tree DW had found at a thrift store sat on their dining table as the centerpiece. The poor thing had no idea the chaos had started. And all the birds that had come in its wake. 

Two stuffed turtle doves on DW’s bed. 

Three painted French hens framed and mounted in the hallway. 

Four calling bird cutouts strung along the staircase banister. 

Six plastic lawn ornament geese stuck in the backyard, all but one “laying” large golden wreaths. 

And now the seven swans swimming on the mantle. 

“You’re very calm about all of this,” Launchpad said. And it was true. If it wasn’t for her fingers prancing across the keyboard, she might’ve even look bored. 

DW was on the opposite side of the spectrum, always coming and going in a flurry of snow, muttering about the underhandedness of consumerism and wondering how was he supposed to _find_ these things in only one day, etc., etc.. 

Gos glanced at Launchpad with a smirk on her beak and mischief in her eyes. He’d seen that expression before and was suddenly grateful that she was competing against DW and not _him_. 

“I have the even days,” she said.

“And there are twelve days….” Launchpad shook his head and chuckled. 

“No matter what Dad does, I have the final day. _And_ I have learned about the magic of online shopping.” Clicking her mouse a few more times, she shut her laptop. “Lords are ordered. I’m gonna prep my maids for tomorrow before that museum party thing tonight.” 

Launchpad wondered if DW knew that he had the odd days. 

The answer came after the nine dancing ladies when DW, buttoning up his coat to go shopping, paused and glanced up at Launchpad in horror. “She has the even days!”

Gos’s laughter echoed down the hall from the direction of her room. 


	8. "Santa Claus Came In The Spring" by Benny Goodman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ViridianVenus who asked for Gosalyn and Drake’s first Christmas together. I hope you like it!

Gosalyn won the Twelve Days gift-off. Not only because she had the even days (though that was easily 90% of it), but because she was a pretty good gift giver. 

Which Drake wouldn’t have been able to guess during their very first Christmas together. 

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

It had been a struggle, but he’d done it. Scraped up enough money to get the hockey equipment Gosalyn had been eyeing, the newest Wiffle Boy game, and a few pairs of socks because it _really_ wasn’t Christmas if you didn’t get a pair of hideous socks. These were more practical to go along with her hokey gear, but this was his first Christmas as a parent, so sue him. 

He hadn’t expected it be so _hard_ to put Christmas together. Or so expensive. But he _had_ started from zero. Never liking Christmas, Drake hadn’t bothered to buy any decorations for himself. And putting up anything in the Tower would have alerted Darkwing’s enemies to the location of his hideout, which was the exact opposite of a _secret_ hideout, thank you very much. 

But now he had a house and a sidekick and a mortgage and a child. And she was expecting Christmas to be… well, _Christmasy_. Which went against all of Drake’s baser instincts. 

Gosalyn deserved the magic of Christmas, though. Whatever _magic_ he could scrounge up. 

He tried hard not to think about the eight Christmases she’d had before meeting him because that’s when his anxiety would kick in, telling him he had to live up to the (literal) ghosts of Christmas past. 

Decorations had been step one, which Launchpad had thankfully provided this year. 

Baking was step two. And Drake hadn’t ever really been _great_ at that, but needs must. Out came Grandma Lulu’s cookie recipe and four batches of failed cookies later, he had a dozen that were only half-burnt. His kitchen may need a remodel after all Drake had put it through; Christmas took no prisoners. 

Step three was Christmas shopping, which he’d just managed to finish that morning. 

And now he’d crossed all the wintry bridges. Completed the customary holiday necessities and had nothing more to do but sit out the rest of the season and try to survive. 

But those pesky ghosts cropped up just as he thought he might have a handle on this whole “Christmas” thing. 

“Hey, Dad,” Gosalyn said, bounding into the kitchen where Drake was trying to coax a lunch out of his stove. “When are we gonna go around the neighborhood and see all the Christmas decorations, Dad?” 

A few weeks ago, Gosalyn had finally started calling him “dad.” And now she used it more than necessary, as if afraid he might forget that’s who he was. As if he could ever _forget_ that with this small firecracker of a kid constantly underfoot. 

He reveled in having her around. And in being called “dad.” 

But he’d be lying if he said the term didn’t completely _terrify_ him. It was such a complicated thing, this _dad_ business. It’s who he was and he was happy that she was willing to call him that, and yet. 

The responsibility. 

It weighed heavily on him sometimes. 

Okay. 

All the time. 

Every waking moment. 

It was the most stressful thing he’d ever done and he had gone up against _Taurus Bulba_ a few months ago. 

“Did you want to go look at lights?” Drake asked, stirring the soup and wondering why it wasn’t boiling yet. 

“Oh, uh….” The change in Gosalyn’s energy was as apparent as the sun suddenly disappearing. Drake glanced down, finding her shuffling her feet and wringing her hands. “O-only if you want to. I… I’m okay doing whatever.” 

His new parental instincts were setting off alarm bells in his head, alerting him to something being _wrong_. 

Setting down the ladle (until recently, he thought it was just called “a big spoon” but no. It had a name. Ladle. God, he was so out of his element), Drake faced Gosalyn fully. “We can go look at lights,” he offered, trying to keep his tone light. Noncommittal. 

“I-I don’t wanna ruin anything you have planned,” Gosalyn insisted, looking up at him. “It’s just….” She dropped her gaze. “It’s nothing.” 

Drake knelt before her, wondering if he should take her hands to calm her down or if it was better to leave her alone. He was _hopeless_ at this. 

“Honestly, kiddo,” Drake said with a chuckle, “I haven’t planned much of anything.” 

When Gosalyn still wouldn’t meet his eyes, those fingers wringing one another for dear life, Drake chose a different tactic. 

Reaching forward, he gently took her hands in his. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.” 

Gosalyn shook her head. “It’s stupid.” 

“I’d like to hear.” Drake cradled both her small hands in one of his and used his now freed hand to tilt her face up until their eyes met. “If you want to tell me.” 

She sighed before explaining, “I used to go see the Christmas decorations around the neighborhood with Grandpa. Every year. I thought it was something everyone did, but you hadn’t _said_ anything about it, so I— I told you it was dumb.” She lowered her eyes once more. 

Drake moved his fingers from her chin to her cheek, caressing her downy feathers. “It’s okay to miss your family.” Even if he felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of them getting eight Christmases with her already. 

“But it’s your _first_ Christmas,” Gosalyn said, her impossibly large green eyes finding his face. “I didn’t want you to feel bad about doing weird tradition stuff.” 

Drake held back a wince. “You can tell it’s my first Christmas on my own, huh?” 

Gosalyn gave him an exasperated look. “You burned _a lot_ of cookies, Dad.” 

He couldn’t help it. He laughed. Trust this girl to know exactly what was wrong and try to fix it in her own way. Which one of them was the parent here? 

It seemed that he could burn more than just cookies, though because the soup started to smoke. 

Leaping up, Drake turned off the stove and moved the slightly brown sludge to another burner. 

Glancing down at his daughter, he sent her a smile. “Go get your coat. We’ll get some food and look at Christmas lights.” 

She perked up. “Really?” 

“Your green coat,” Drake instructed, placing a hand between her shoulders to guide her out of the kitchen. “It’s cold out there. And get a hat!” he called as she raced up the stairs. 

They didn’t manage to walk around the neighborhood that night. They got distracted by the decorations downtown and in the park. But Gosalyn was beaming, chattering to him all night, so he must have done _something_ right. 

Next year. 

He’d put up lights on the house and take Gosalyn around the neighborhood. 

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

Later that year, on Christmas morning after all the presents had been opened, Gosalyn had crawled into Drake’s lap, saying, “I didn’t get _you_ anything.”

She’d been so small back then; when she would sit in his lap, he’d been able to rest his beak atop her head. Which was exactly what Drake _had_ done in that moment, saying he didn’t mind. 

He hadn’t said what had been in his head, afraid of coming across as too saccharine. But he’d thought it every year after, too, when she’d point out the discrepancies between the number of her presents vs. his. 

_You’re all I need, Gos._

Even now, surrounded by plastic toy drums sprawled around their TV set that bespoke of Gosalyn’s gift giving victory, that was all Drake could think. 

Sometimes he still burned dinner. 

And sometimes he made jokes in uncomfortable situations and ended up making things worse. 

And parenting was _still_ the most stressful and terrifying thing he’d ever done. 

But she was worth it. 

Glancing at Gosalyn with a scowl, Drake muttered, “I’ll beat you next year.” 

Gosalyn pat him on the shoulder. “That’s very ambitious of you.” With a grin, she bounded out of the room. 

Yeah. 

_Well_ worth it. 

Now what was he supposed to do with _twelve_ drums?


	9. "Silver Bells" by Michael Bublé

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Amelia, who can never get enough Negaduck.

Strictly speaking, walking through the Breakdown wasn’t the most direct route to the Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice Bakery. 

But it wasn’t the first time Negaduck’s curiosity had gotten the best of him. Nor, did he suspect, would it be the last. 

It was surreal, to walk through town and not be recognized. He _was_ in disguise, but all the same. Not a single flinch, no eyes widening in terror, no one ducking away or breaking into a run. A part of him wanted to be offended (suit, hat, mask, and cape or no, he’d worked hard for that fear), and another was relieved in the freedom of the anonymity. He’d garnered some sort of reaction from people all his life. He’d adapted to the attention and even craved it at times. 

But he’d never realized the benefit of walking around unnoticed. 

Maybe there was something to this secret identity thing. Not that he’d ever voice that aloud. But it was a thought. 

Because walking around the main downtown area without anyone recognizing him gave Negaduck the rare gift of time. 

No one raised an eyebrow when he slowed his pace to see all the shop windows decorated for the season. 

People paid him no mind when he circled around the tree that had been placed in the middle of a business square, massive colored bulbs illuminated with syphoned electricity weighting down the branches. 

Everyone walked by, business as usual, while he looked upward to study the garland stretched across the roads. The large red bows tied around streetlights. The wreaths (where had they found _wreaths_?) mounted atop building entrances and on doors. 

This was Christmas in the Negaverse. 

Now. 

This was Christmas in the Negaverse _now._ After their supreme lord and ruler had been absent for three years. 

They would never have been so brazen before. Their decorating would have been simpler, more candid, so that Negaduck wouldn’t find it and incinerate it. 

But three years gone and there were ten foot tall trees and garland and _wreaths_. 

He wasn’t mad. He couldn’t be. The Negaverse had merely done what it always did: it had adapted. This time it had just adapted to Negaduck not being there. 

Which sounded worse than it was. In a way, Negaduck was proud of them, deciding to so boldly go against his rule despite his return. 

_And_ this embrace of the season was so clearly sanctioned by Gosalyn, so he really couldn’t even be _frustrated_ at the holiday encroaching on his rundown city. She loved this damn holiday; it had only been a matter of time before her enthusiasm spread to the populace. 

And he didn’t _completely_ hate the holiday himself. Not anymore. 

So he’d let all these decorations stay up. Pretend he’d never been here and, thus, claim ignorance. 

Hence his disguise. 

Honestly, he’d just wanted to _see_ it. Confirm with his own eyes just how much his world had changed without him in it. 

Gosalyn had done well. Clearly divided the city so villains were on one side and law abiding citizens on the other. The citizens were safe in their space and the villains could be themselves, free to wreak havoc on the town without repercussions. 

Negaduck wouldn’t have been able to so clearly divide the town like that. He never would’ve _thought_ to do it. But it worked. Functioned as both a villain’s paradise and a citizens’s society. 

Snow started to drift across the city, giving Negaduck his cue to _get on with it_. 

As he approached the edge of the Breakdown, he assumed his identity once more, ditching the trench coat and baseball cap in the newly falling snow. 

He’d had his fill of peace. Chaos needed to return. All he had to do was confirm that he’d successfully rebuilt the bridge between the Negaverse and the Prime Universe. 

For the _third_ time. 

He was getting real tired of doing that over and over and _over_ again. 

At least he’d been able to use Gosalyn’s Duckburg portal to go back and forth this time. Repairing the portal from both sides instead of hoping and praying it would work was a lot less nerve-racking. 

His Fearsome Four losers along with Steelbeak, Moliarty, Splatter Phoenix, Ammonia Pine, and Paddywhack had been stuck in the Prime Universe for the past few months as Negaduck had repaired the portal.

But now. 

They’d come back. 

Be officially under his supervision once more. 

Christmas was all about giving. And he was ready to give himself full control over his minions again. 

The city was even _decorated_. As if _encouraging_ this homecoming and the chaos it would inevitably bring with it. 

Christmas really wasn’t so bad after all. 


	10. "Welcome Christmas" from How the Grinch Stole Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For leviprime, raidenraccoon, teh-bluejay, and rubbersoles19 who have become GoMax shippers.

 

“I’m trying to be cool about this, but the Negaverse really _does_ look like a video game,” Max said as he jumped from car to car in Gosalyn’s wake. “Seriously. All I need is a few weapons and some zombies and I’d be set.” 

“How would you fight off the zombies?” Gosalyn asked, leaping down to the pavement and glancing back to make sure he wasn’t too far behind. “You don’t have a game controller.”

“I played baseball!” Max said indignantly, walking side by side with Gosalyn as they started down the street. 

“That type of swing would tire you out quickly _and_ mess up your shoulders and back because you’d be hitting living things and not a small ball,” Gosalyn pointed out. 

“Listen,” Max said. “No zombie is gonna come running at me at 90 miles per hour, so I would be able to use all that force on a slow-moving brainless monster, which I could _totally_ do.” 

“What video games are you playing?” Gosalyn asked, glancing up at him. “Because the ones I’ve played with you, and beaten you in by the way—” 

“That’s still up for debate. You elbowed me in the ribs.” 

“—have very nimble and fast-moving zombies,” Gosalyn finished as if she hadn’t been interrupted half way through. 

“Okay,” Max said, holding up his hands in surrender, “you are getting very technical and I just came out here to have a good time.” 

“A good time. In the Negaverse?” Gosalyn raised an eyebrow.

Max shrugged. “Well, you were here, so. Yeah.” 

Gosalyn couldn't help the blush that spread across her cheeks as Max grinned down at her. Sobering up, she pointed a finger at him. “Don’t try to sweet talk me so you can win this zombie argument.” 

“I am telling you I could take them out!” Max said, balling his hands into a fist and miming a batter’s swing. “Give me a baseball bat and I would be pretty dangerous.” 

Gosalyn shook her head as they continued down the street. 

It wasn’t that Gosalyn didn’t think he could do it, it’s that she _knew_ he couldn’t. Sure, Max might be able to do some damage to zombies if given the chance and a weapon, but she was the fighting expert of the two and, realistically, _she’d_ be the one fighting them all off. 

The low rumble of voices caused Gosalyn to stop in her tracks, a hand going out to grip Max’s coat. He immediately frose, glancing down at her for further instructions. 

There was definitely someone coming. A group of them based on the crunching of the snow and the voices echoing down the nearby street. 

It had been a huge gamble, bringing Max to the Negaverse. But he’d been interested, she’d needed the help, and the city had been at its safest with a stockpile of villains trapped in the Prime Universe. Really, if Max was ever going to visit the Negaverse, now was the time before the chaos returned in full force.

Until right this moment, when Negaduck was apparently bringing all the chaos home. 

Gosalyn gripped Max’s coat and shoved him into a nearby restaurant. Ducking down under a front window, glass long since blown away and the frame lopsided, she whispered, “Don’t say anything and don’t move.”

He hunkered down, Gosalyn beside him as she listened to the villainous group get closer and closer. 

“My leaves are gonna freeze off if I stay out in this cold much longer,” Bushroot whined. 

“I’m already half frozen,” Liquidator said, his voice shaking. 

“I knew I shoulda gotten dat winter suit from da department store before we left,” Steelbeak said. 

“The city’s a mess!” Ammonia screeched. 

“Nothing a little paint won’t fix,” Splatter Phoenix said. 

“Shut up,” Negaduck snarled. “All of you, just _shut up_.” 

No one dared speak again, but their footsteps grew louder as the villains approached. Gosalyn maneuvered so she could peer out of the entryway, the door hanging exclusively by the topmost hinge hopefully obstructing her from the villains. 

But they were walking away from her. Towards the edges of town where each of the villains had set up their own individual hideouts. 

Gosalyn remained as still as she could, her eyes following each of the villains as they walked by, making sure they had all returned. She would’ve liked to follow them to their respective hideouts and watch their reactions to the Christmas surprises she’d left for each of them, but she wouldn’t risk Max for that. And she had the annual McDuck Christmas party to attend tonight, so. 

As she’d told Negaduck a few weeks ago, she’d overbooked.

Still. It was tempting. 

To tell Max to wait here and slip out, following them to their individual hideouts. 

Because she’d decorated each one for a kind of Christmasy homecoming and thank-you-for-staying-loyal-while Negaduck-had-been-gone type of thing. Today, she had needed an extra pair of hands (Liquidator’s gift and been heavier than she’d anticipated), so she’d recruited Max. He was probably as eager as she was to see how each villain reacted to their gifts since he’d been directly involved. 

She could just imagine Megavolt seeing his lighthouse glowing with every variation of string lights Gosalyn had been able to get her hands on. 

Bushroot tending to the poinsettias she’d brought back from Mexico and all the sad little Christmas trees the lots had been ready to send to the chipper. 

Liquidator finding the ice sculptures. 

Quackerjack playing (and no doubt modifying) the traditional Christmas toys she’d found as she had shopped to best her father during the 12 Days gift-off. 

Ammonia using her plethora of new cleaning supplies. 

Splatter Phoenix testing out her new paint set. 

Moliarty wearing his enhanced eyewear that helped him see in any lighting. 

Steelbeak’s new suit.

Paddywhack got a Mexican piñata because Gosalyn had been at a loss as to what to get a demon duck and everyone likes piñatas, right? 

So, yeah. 

It would be nice to see each of their reactions in person. But she had places to be. 

Besides, she’d probably hear about each of these gifts in the days to come. With new toys and tools, each of the villains would likely commit small crimes to test them out. Which would then give Negaduck the opportunity to put each villain back in their place. 

Really, these were the gifts that would keep on giving. 

Negaduck led his villainous hoard down the street, stalking forward with his hands balled into fists. The rest of the brood followed in his wake, shivering and silently fighting one another with shoves and rude gestures. 

Gosalyn had kind of missed them. The Negaverse hadn’t been the same. 

As the villains disappeared down the street, Gosalyn glanced over to Max with a smirk. “Want me to find you a baseball bat so you can let loose?” 

“I said I could take out slow-moving zombies, not a hoard of villains.” Max sat up slowly and glanced through the window. “Are we safe?” 

“You were never _not_ safe,” Gosalyn said, standing and looking down the street to make sure the villains were still making their way through the city and hadn’t stopped for whatever reason. “But yes, the coast is clear.”

Gosalyn gave it a few more moments before poking her head out of the restaurant. The villainous group was getting smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing around a corner. 

Stepping out into the street, Gosalyn nodded to Max who joined her. 

“I know, by the way,” Max said, smiling down at her. “That I’m safe here with you.” 

Gosalyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t withhold her own smile. “You’re such a sap.” 

“ _Your_ sap,” Max pointed out as they continued on their way, down two more blocks to the corner where they’d left the hot-wired Volkswagen. They’d gotten as close to Liquidator’s as they could, but the roads were either overgrown with vegetation or drowned in collected water so they’d still walked the last few blocks to reach their destination. 

And, apparently, they’d been just in time. A few minutes more and they might have run into the villainous hoard instead of passing by them. 

Shifting the car into drive once they were both safely inside the vehicle, Gosalyn barreled down the abandoned city streets and barren freeways towards NegaDuckburg and the portal home. 

She wondered if their luck would hold out and get them to the McDuck Christmas party on time. 


	11. "Merry Christmas Polka" by the Andrews Sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really like this song, so I attached a story to it.

Even after attending the McDuck Christmas parties for almost a decade, Drake was always floored by the sheer size and extravagance of them. 

There was always garland hanging from every conceivable angle with Christmas lights interwoven in their branches. There was always a massive gingerbread house built as a replica to some great wonder of the world (it was a replica of Duckburg this year). There was always the largest tree Drake had ever seen (they somehow continued to grow in size year after year), a group of carolers, outrageous amounts of food and drink, and a happily crackling fire in the gargantuan fireplace in the ballroom of Hotel McDuck. 

Always classy, expensive, and the biggest, most Christmasy gathering Drake had ever been apart of. 

_This_ party would be better, though, because Drake had been invited twice, unbeknownst to his host—

“Where are they?” Scrooge demanded, smacking his cane on the pristine marble floor as he marched up to Drake. 

If Drake didn’t moonlight as the Terror that Flaps in the Night, he might have cowered at the sight of the angry tycoon coming toward him.

Okay, so _maybe_ he cowered a little, but Scrooge McDuck was intimidating, all right? He hadn’t become the richest duck in the world by being warm and cuddly. 

“I’m sure they’re on their way, sir,” Drake said, totally _not_ using Launchpad as a shield to hide behind.

Not at all. 

“Are ye confident in tha’, Mr. Mallard?” Scrooge asked, rolling the “r” in Mallard as he raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

Drake was definitely _not_ about to step behind Launchpad completely and let the pilot deal with his employer. 

But movement at the front door caught his eye, so instead he smiled, stood his full height _beside_ Launchpad, and asserted, “I am.” 

Scrooge grumbled something incoherent as Gosalyn and Max scurried up to the group. 

“Sorry we’re—” 

“Yer _late_ ,” Scrooge interrupted Gosalyn and leveled a glare at her. “Time is money.” 

“Of course, Mr. McDuck,” Max said easily, stepping forward and straightening his sweater. “I’ll let our guests know that we’re ready. Would you like to be the one who introduces them?” 

Scrooge scowled, pointing his cane up to Max’s nose. “They have five minutes, Mr. Goof.” 

“I’ll have them ready in three, sir,” Max assured. 

Scrooge sniffed and stalked away.

Once Scrooge was out of earshot, Max turned to Gosalyn. “There should be a new suit in dressing room three through that door,” he pointed to a back corner. “I’ll get your quiver and bow from the car.” 

Gosalyn kissed Max on the cheek before disappearing through the door he’d indicated. 

Drake eyed Max. “You handled Scrooge McDuck rather well.” He crossed his arms while waiting for an explanation. No way a new employee was _that_ good at handling their boss’s mood swings. What was Max hiding?

But Max grinned. “I grew up next door to Pete. I can handle pretty much anything after that.” Digging out car keys from his pocket, Max looked at Launchpad. “Can you tell Dad I’m here? And make sure he’s ready?” 

“Can do,” Launchpad said cheerfully, walking through the same door Gosalyn had. 

“ _I’ll_ go tell Darkwing Duck that his adoring fans await,” Drake said. 

Max smirked. “You do that, Mr. Mallard. Thanks for, uh, coordinating all of this with him.” 

Drake narrowed his eyes. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” 

Max held up his hands in surrender. “Just grateful. When you… _see_ Darkwing Duck, can you ask him to get ready quickly?” Flashing another grin that set Drake’s teeth on edge, Max wove through the crowd and ducked out the front door. 

Sometimes Drake could swear Max _knew_ about his double life. 

But how could he? Sure, he’d figured out _Gosalyn’s_ alter ego, but they were dating. And Gosalyn was harder to mistake for anyone else with her shock of red hair; she wasn’t the master of disguise that _Darkwing Duck_ was. 

Loosing a sigh, Drake followed the same path Launchpad and Gosalyn had taken, finding the custodial closet he’d stashed his Darkwing costume in and quickly changed. 

By the time Max returned, Gosalyn’s quiver and bow in hand, Darkwing Duck stood beside Launchpad, smoothing out the wrinkles in his cape. 

“So glad you could make it, sir,” Max said to him as Gosalyn secured her bow to the quiver buckled it on. 

“Anything to help,” Darkwing said, puffing out his chest. 

“I’ll get Dad then we’ll head out,” Max said, maneuvering around the heroes and disappearing into another dressing room. 

Darkwing wondered how different the party would look through the eye holes of his mask. 

Turns out, not very. 

But it didn’t feel as overwhelming with the crowd of guests cheering his name as he walked over to his meet and greet location. The purple velvet ropes outlining his designated area was a nice touch, he thought, as he stepped up in front of an image of St. Canard blown up onto a fabric backdrop. The first group came up to him, giddily asking for his autograph, saying they’d idolized him since he’d defeated the Fearsome Five in Duckburg over a decade ago. 

Yeah, yeah, yeah. 

Darkwing was an immediate fan of these McDuck Christmas parties.


	12. "Here Comes Santa Claus" by Elvis Presley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For leviprime because one chapter with the Goofs and Mallards wasn’t enough. And for Amelia because she loves Max as much as I do.

Max had been worried that next to Santa Claus, the Darkwing trio wouldn’t get as much attention as they were warranted. 

It was _Santa Claus_ after all. (Technically, it was Goofy dressed up as Santa in a red suit and fake beard, but the kids who’d come to the party with their parents didn’t know that.) 

But Darkwing Duck, sidekick Launchpad McQuack, and apprentice Quiverwing Quack each managed their own impressive queues. No one would ever beat out Santa, of course, and Goofy was a natural at the role, having played it on multiple occasions when Max had been younger. Children and adults alike lined up to sit on Santa’s lap and express their Christmas wishes. Goofy was, naturally, equally attentive to everyone regardless of age. 

Darkwing had more of an older crowd, those in their late teens and up remembering when he’d defeated the Fearsome Five in Duckburg years ago. For many, he was still their hero, most of them having kept up with his active career in St. Canard. Several ladies who’d had a few too many drinks at the bar flirted with him pretty shamelessly, but he rebuffed their affections with his usual aplomb, flattered more than anything and sending them on their way down the line. 

To Launchpad, who did _not_ handle them as easily. He blushed and stammered, trying to pull away when they grabbed his arms and shoulders. Max kept a wary eye out and made sure security was close by in case anything got out of hand, but nothing scandalous happened. 

It was the kids Launchpad was best with. A few wanted to grow up to be pilots, like him, and others simply wanted to fly. Launchpad easily slipped in and out of make believe with them, eventually heading up an elaborate game of tag where everyone was a different type of flying craft. 

Max had sometimes wondered how Launchpad — easygoing unassuming sometimes air headed Launchpad — had won over the hearts of Drake Mallard and Scrooge McDuck, two of the most stubborn and temperamental ducks in all existence, but he wouldn’t wonder anymore. Both ducks were family oriented and if Launchpad had been half as good with Gosalyn or Scrooge’s nephews as he was with these children, it was no wonder why they were so undyingly loyal to the pilot. 

The big question of the evening had been Quiverwing Quack. She hadn’t done many public appearances, didn’t have the extensive heroic resume that Darkwing Duck did, and wasn’t as genial as Launchpad. 

But she did well, as Max had known she would. She was energetic and playful with the kids who all looked up to her, especially the young girls who were starstruck over meeting a female superhero. With the adults, Quiverwing let her sarcasm loose, making more than one group burst into raucous laughter. 

The thump of a cane alerted Max to Scrooge’s presence and he straightened as Scrooge stepped up next to him. “More or less what ye predicted, lad?”the old businessman asked. He’d lost the low bite to his tone he’d had when Max had been running late. Clearly, he was pleased with how well the night was going. 

Allowing himself a small satisfied smile, Max nodded. “It seems to be going well, sir.” 

“So well we might need to make a separate ‘meet your heroes’ event. Which we could charge admission for.” 

Max glanced down and saw the dollar signs practically dancing in Scrooge’s eyes. “You’re also associated with popular heroes,” he pointed out. “Which will increase your stock and public image.” 

Scrooge chuckled and tapped his cane once one the marble floor. “Ye’ve done well, laddie. Keep up the good work.” 

Max smiled fully and nodded to his employer as he ambled away. 

Eventually, the party started to wind down, each meet and greet line getting shorter and shorter until there was no one left. The staff wanted photos with the group of heroes and managed to snap a few when the ballroom had been cleared of the party guests. 

Scrooge and his family were the ones who got the final moments with the heroic trio and to Santa Claus, taking some marketing photos with the professional photographer Scrooge had brought in for the evening. 

Max also fell prey to the photoshoot, Scrooge insisting he take a picture to commemorate the evening. 

And Max couldn’t say _no_ ; this was his _boss_ after all. Never mind that he’d secretly hoped he could get a selfie with Quiverwing at some point. 

But he got more than he’d expected, Launchpad and his father on one side and his girlfriend on the other with  ~~Drake Mallard~~ Darkwing Duck hovering menacingly close by. 

Honestly, Max couldn’t have asked for a better night. 


	13. "The Bells Of Christmas" from The Santa Clause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one asked for this in particular, but there have been questions concerning Christine, so this happened.

She moved her eyes from the barrel of the gun to Negaduck. To the unforgiving hard lines crisscrossing his face and his cold lifeless stare. She had seen him in many states of agitation, of anger, of frustration. But never had she seen him look so _empty_. Oblivion really had changed him. 

“Please,” she begged, figuring one more time couldn’t hurt. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret later.” 

He flicked the safety off his pistol and leveled it between her eyes. 

She immediately held up her hands in surrender. “I know I’ve been a disappointment. That you’ll never feel for me what you feel for _her_. But….” Christine swallowed, keeping her gaze on Negaduck’s unyielding stare and not on the firearm. “But _please_. If not for me, then for her. Think of what you’ll have to tell her later. Don’t put her through that—”

Negaduck fired. 

The bullet whizzed by her ear, she felt the force of it even after it disappeared through the open doorway behind her. 

Christine gasped, unsteady on her feet and wishing for something to hold onto. But there was nothing behind her except the glowing doorway. 

Through all of this, Christine couldn’t figure out the _why_. Why blindfold her and the Friendly Four? Why drag them across town to this endless spiral staircase with an untold number of doors stretching farther than the eye could see? Why force the Friendly Four through _this_ door? Why force _her_? She had no idea what lie beyond and wanted something _anything_ to elude to the reasons of Negaduck’s actions. 

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Negaduck snarled, the sound low and deep in his throat, “use her against me.” Taking a step forward, nearly pressing the weapon to her forehead, he hissed, “Go.” 

She blinked up at him, tears fogging the edge of her vision. “Please don’t make me leave.” 

He grit his teeth. “ _Go_.” 

Sniffling, Christine turned toward the faceless glowing doorway. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, she closed her eyes and stepped forward. 

Feeling the crunch of snow beneath her shoes was surprising enough to force her to open her eyes.

She was standing in St. Canard, but a version that was free of crumbling buildings and cracked streets. She’d seen a St. Canard like this before. The one where Darkwing lived; the Prime Universe. 

But this was not the Prime Universe. 

These buildings were cleaner, the streets dotted with a few citizens scurrying from shop to shop. There was a sense of order and control that Christine was not accustomed to. She was used to chaos. In the Negaverse and even, to some extent, in the Prime Universe. 

But here. 

Everything had a place and was sitting in its place. 

Except for her. 

Standing in the middle of a random sidewalk in the snow.

“Christine!” Bushroot exclaimed, running over and scooping her up into a hug. 

Liquidator splashed over, concern etched in his watery features. “Are you all right?” 

“Negaduck didn’t hurt you, did he?” Megavolt asked, a spark of electricity sputtering amongst his fingers as he studied her carefully. 

“No,” she assured her guardians, smiling at Quackerjack as he joined the rest of the group. “No, he didn’t hurt me.” 

Bushroot set her down as Quackerjack glanced around, asking, “But where did he bring us?”

[“I don’t know.” Christine said, also taking the chance to study the city further.](https://media.giphy.com/media/6theZHxvKGe9G/giphy.gif)

The crisp winter air wasn’t polluted. Everything shone, not just from the forest of lights hung up all along the street, but from cleanliness. And even with the soft snowfall, there was a warmth to this winter that was new. She was used to desolate. But this….

It was the winter wonderland from the song. The Christmas decorations, though brooking no argument in their placement, were full and colorful. 

This. 

Was everything Christine had wanted for the Negaverse. The vision that had kept her fighting for what she thought was right. 

She glanced around, her companions doing the same, as if there was a sign somewhere that would broadcast what world they’d been transported to. 

The towering buildings were decorated in greens and golds and reds, stretching impossibly above them. Christmas lights had been strung with military precision along trees and lampposts. Wreaths were hung over doorways in the exact center. Garland with red satin bows stretched across the streets, criss crossing one another at exact angles. 

Christine didn’t remember ever seeing a _real_ Christmas. Until recently, it was the holiday that wasn’t mentioned for fear of getting drawn and quartered by Negaduck. And even the small attempts that had started to trickle into the Negaverse more recently were nothing compared to _this_.

Her study of the city around her came to an abrupt halt when she saw a man about to cross the street without using the crosswalk. Or even looking both ways to see if the path was clear. Which it wasn’t. 

Running over to him, Christine pulled him back onto the curb and hit the crossing signal. “Sir, please wait until it’s clear for you to cross.” 

A distant rumbling shook the ground under Christine’s feet. She glanced around, wondering if there was an earthquake and what she was supposed to do, but the man squirmed frantically in her grip and her attention was immediately focused back on him. 

“Let me go! Let me go!” the citizen exclaimed, eyes wide as they roved around the city, the rumbling increasing with every passing second. 

Should she be looking for shelter? 

The Friendly Four rushed over to her, glancing around for the source of the commotion as they made a barricade around her.

Christine grabbed the citizen with both hands to keep him from falling back into traffic. “It’s not _safe_ ,” she insisted. 

“Please, you’ve gotta let me go.” What little color that was left in the man’s face drained away as the rumbling came to a sudden halt. 

Christine turned back to ask her guardians for assistance, only to find herself face to face with a tank. 

The man finally yanked himself free with Christine adequately distracted and he stumbled away, bolting across the street. 

Machines with claws extending from underneath their duck-shaped heads flew out from behind the tank, grabbing ahold of the j-walker and bringing him back over to the tank. He was stammering and stuttering, pleading to be released and promising to never do it again. 

The top hatch of the tank opened and Christine took a breath to steady her nerves. If she could face Negaduck, she could face _anything_. 

But she blinked as the driver climbed out. 

The driver looked like some sort of weird hybrid between Darkwing Duck and Negaduck. He wore purple but with a large armored chest piece and the shoulders had spikes mounted in them. He still sported a violet fedora but his eyes… glowed red? 

“G-Gosalyn?” he asked, his voice closer to Darkwing’s than Negaduck’s. 

“I prefer Christine,” she said, standing fully and facing the tank. 

He nodded, a stunned look on his face. “Your hair is different.” 

He was clearly a Drake Mallard. He knew who _she_ was, but she couldn’t say the same about him. 

And still _why_ echoed through her mind. Why had Negaduck sent her _here_? 

“I don’t think I’m who you think I am,” Christine said, eying the hybrid as he walked down the length of the tank that was shaped like his face. 

“You may look a little different and go by a new name, but I’d recognize you anywhere,” the hybrid said, his tone hesitant and words gentle. “Have— are you back? For good?” 

Christine, all too familiar with this, shook her head as disappointment sliced through her. “I’m not her. I’m… a version of her. From another universe.” 

“Did you bring _them_ with you?” he asked, nodding to the Friendly Four standing around her, each standing in their own defensive pose, ready to jump into action to protect her if they had to. 

“They’re my guardians,” Christine said. “The Friendly Four.” 

The hybrid narrowed his red eyes. “Where did you say you were from?” 

“The Negaverse.” 

His expression didn’t change, eyes regarding the group warily. Studying their police uniforms. “Everything’s backwards there, so…. They’re not villains?” he asked. 

Christine shook her head. “No! They’ve been helping me try to bring justice back to the Negaverse.” 

The hybrid’s eyes returned to Christine. “Justice, huh? I saw you handle that pathetic j-walker. Pipe down, you!” he said to the citizen still clutched in the robotic claws. “You know the punishment for j-walking and have no one to blame but yourself. Take him in.” The robots zoomed down the street, the citizen’s pleas to be released echoing around the buildings.

Christine glanced up at the hybrid Darkwing-Negaduck. “Where are you taking him?” 

“To jail,” the hybrid said with a shrug of his spiked shoulders. “He knows the punishment for j-walking is imprisonment.” 

“That seems harsh,” Bushroot said. 

The hybrid sneered. “There’s no such thing as too harsh when it comes to safety.” 

“I think we just found the line,” Megavolt murmured, glancing down the street where the j-walker had been taken away.

Quackerjack nodded. “And this guy’s definitely crossed it.”

Christine squared her shoulders. “People make mistakes,” she said. “You should try to teach them right from wrong before dolling out punishments.” 

“People aren’t usually so cooperative,” the hybrid sneered. 

“That doesn’t mean you don’t _try_ first,” she said. 

The hybrid studied her for a moment before a siren went off somewhere within the tank, a mechanical voice saying, “Citizens spotted ice skating on Audubon Bay.” 

Liquidator glanced at Christine. “There’s no way the ice is thick enough to support them.” 

“I’ll handle them,” the hybrid growled, turning around, his cape flying out behind him as he stalked back into his tank. “You should go back to whatever world you came from.” 

“Are you going to arrest them, too?” Christine demanded, ignoring his warning and taking a step closer to the tank.

“They knew what they were signing up for when they decided to break the law,” the hybrid said, not turning back to look at them. 

“Then I’m coming with you,” Christine demanded, climbing up onto the tank. 

The hybrid whirled around, red eyes sparking. “You’re _what_?” 

“Coming with. You aren’t about to arrest some people for _ice skating_.” 

The Friendly Four followed Christine’s lead and started piling into the tank, much to the hybrid’s chagrin.

“Listen, _Christine_ ,” he said, frowning, “this is _my_ city and I’ll deal with the misbehaving citizens as _I_ see fit.” 

“If you keep arresting everyone, then there’ll be no one left to protect,” Christine pointed out, crossing her arms. “If you really value safety so much, then you should teach them how to be safe, not send them off to jail for j-walking.” 

“He knew what he was doing!” 

“He was so terrified of getting caught by you that he almost threw himself into traffic!” Christine insisted, confused as to how this duck could be so blind to the real issues at hand. “Is this really how you run your city? Through fear?” 

“It’s the only thing that works,” he bit back. 

Christine studied him for a few moments in silence, but took a small step closer and gently asked, “What’s your name?” 

He was taken aback by that, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. But he answered. “Darkwarrior Duck.” 

She nodded. “Well, Darkwarrior. How about we do an experiment? I’ll teach the ice skaters about the dangers of skating on open bodies of water and you won’t arrest them. Then we’ll keep an eye on the j-walker you imprisoned and we can see which method works better.” 

“I already _know_ —” 

“Can I come with you?” Christine asked. 

He rolled his red eyes and threw his hands up into the air. “Doesn’t seem like I have much choice.” 

She smiled. “Thank you. And you’ll see. Teaching really is the best way.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He stomped into his tank, Christine eagerly on his heels. 

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

It wasn’t until a few days later that Christine even thought about going back to search for Negaduck. She’d been so busy running around with Darkwarrior, so desperate to prove him wrong in his “shoot first, ask questions later (or not at all)” mentality that she’d nearly forgotten that she hadn’t come to this universe by choice. 

So she wandered back to the storefront she was sure he had arrived from, and pushed opened the door. 

And found nothing inside. It was an empty building. 

No spiral staircase. 

No rainbow colors. 

It was just an abandoned shop with empty shelves. 

She’d been so _sure_. Thought this was the angle she’d first seen the city from, but she must have come from somewhere else. 

Christine was ready to close the door when something glinting on the doorjamb high above her head caught her eye. Discovering it was one of Negaduck’s knives stabbed into the frame with a note pinned beneath it, Christine reached up and pulled the weapon free. She caught the piece of paper that had been stuck beneath it, eyes scanning the page. 

On it was Negaduck’s untidy scrawl. “He’s a fanatic for justice. Thought you two cub scouts would probably get along. —ND.” 

The part of her that was already bruised from rejection didn’t flinch at the farewell.

Because, yes, she _hadn’t_ lived up to his expectations, but he hadn’t lived up to hers, either. Neither of them had tried very hard at making any sort of relationship work. 

So he had bowed out. Gave her a new start with a different version of himself. One that was as passionate about doing the right thing as she was. Darkwarrior was definitely an authoritarian, even a tyrant, but she was willing to try to prove him wrong. 

And who knows? Maybe she’d build some sort of working relationship with him.

But she wanted to see where this led. 

And maybe fight harder this time. 

[Walking through the pristine St. Canard with its too-perfect Christmas decorations, Christine promised herself that she would keep trying.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJVW42s3vrk)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For me, this is the end of Christine’s journey. Or the beginning if you want to look at it that way. I wanted to give her some sort of send off since we didn’t know what had happened to her in “Living On a Prayer”; hopefully this is satisfying for everyone. 
> 
> See you all tomorrow!
> 
> ~RS


	14. "Jingle Bells" by Bombay Dub Orchestra Remix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For teh-bluejay and Amelia who love the Avengers/MCU as much as I do. 
> 
> Not sure what’s happening? Don’t know who the characters are? You can read the adventure with the Duckvengers in "Living On A Prayer" the title called "Live To Rise." A complete list of characters is listed in the notes at the end.

“Isn’t snow supposed to be _outside_?” 

As the voice spoke, a few droplets of water fell onto the feathers on Tony Mallard’s head. Glaring up at the ceiling, Tony said, “Aren’t you _not_ supposed to be in my vents?” Running a hand through his feathers to disperse the moisture, Tony looked back down at his snow machine. “Get down, Barton.” 

With a muffled splat, the watery assassin landed next to Tony and peered over his shoulder. “Is it supposed to be making it snow in the living room, or has it gone rogue? Follow up question: if it _has_ gone rogue, can I be the one to hunt it down and kill it?” 

Tony scoffed. “Good luck trying to kill _anything_ created by me.”

“It’s true, Bud,” Jack said as he came into the room. Light on his feet as ever, he navigated his way over to Bud and Tony without making a sound. “Someone with more _skill_ would have to take down one of Mallard’s inventions.” 

Bud’s eyes grew wide as he glanced between Tony and Jack. “Change of plans.” 

“There are no _plans_ ,” Tony ground out, tightening a bolt on the snow machine. 

“Jack _and_ I get to take down your snow tech beast.” 

Tony opened his beak to reply, but Jack beat him to it. Hands on his hips, Jack glared at Bud. “Who says I want to team up with you?” 

“You wound me!” Bud said dramatically, feigning injury. “But if it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’ll get.” 

“There’s no fight, there’s no plans, there’s _nothing_ ,” Tony groused, setting the machine right-side up and watching it carefully. “It’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.” 

Bud and Jack studied the room as the snow machine started pumping out large gentle snowflakes, the living room turning into a wintry wonderland.

“Even for you, Mallard, this is eccentric,” Jack said, leveling his cool gaze at Tony. 

Under which he totally didn’t shrink. 

Okay, maybe a little. But that was _smart_ to be afraid of the infamous assassin Black Jack. 

Tony had never quite ruled out if Jack would decide to kill him in his sleep one day or not. He got the sense that Jack was biding his time, waiting until the team got too boring, or was no longer useful, and then would take them all out one by one. 

Don’t let appearances fool you: Jack was the most dangerous of the Duckvengers. 

When Tony wasn’t in his suit. 

And you hadn’t separated Megavolt from his Pop Tarts. 

And Reggie hadn’t gone all raging plant monster. 

_Then_ Jack was the most dangerous. 

“Well, now we have a guaranteed white Christmas,” Tony said, observing the snow with a smile on his beak. “You’re welcome. Ah, just the duck I wanted to see!” 

The elevator doors had opened, depositing a rumpled Reginald onto the floor. He blinked upon seeing the snow, but otherwise didn’t seem phased. 

“Reggie, baby, tell me how much you love my snow machine, which,” he turned and held up a feathered finger out to the S.H.U.S.H. agents, “I am temporarily calling Frosty.” 

Jack rolled his eyes while Bud slumped. “Great, now I’m emotionally attached to it.” 

“Why did you build a snow machine?” Reggie asked. 

“Oh, _that_ ,” Bud said, eyes lighting up as he sat up straight again. “Forget my questions. Answer that one.” 

“I think we’re missing the point here,” Tony said, throwing an arm around Reggie and leading him fully into the room. “I’ve brought snow _inside_ the Tower. All the splendor of Christmas right here in the living room.” 

“A room which we now can’t use until all the snow has been cleaned up,” Jack pointed out with a roll of his eyes. 

“I’m sensing a lot of hostility here,” Tony said. “Unwarranted. Hurtful. What’s your verdict on Frosty, Doc?” Tony slapped Reggie on the back. “ _Some_ people,” he glared at Bud, “threatened to kill him.” 

“Only if he went rogue!” Bud whined. “But then you went and _named_ him and now I’ll never be able to take the shot.” 

Tony turned back to Reggie. “So. Reg. Frosty. Genius, right?” 

Reggie examined the machine in question, bent double and with his glasses perched on his beak. “It’s designed well, Tony. _Everything_ you make is designed well.” 

“Reg, please, you’ll make me blush.” Tony grinned. 

“But I still want to know why you made Frosty in the first place,” Reggie said, removing his glasses and folding them up as he observed Tony. 

“What sorcery is this?” boomed Megavolt from across the room. Striding over to them, he said, “My friends, ’tis snowing indoors. It must be a powerful spell indeed to have done this.” 

“No magic, Percy Jackson, just good ol’ fashioned science,” Tony said. 

“ _You_ have done this?” Megavolt asked, peering down at Tony. 

Tony preened. “I have.” 

His face splitting into a huge grin, Megavolt slapped Tony on the back, nearly sending the billionaire sprawling to the snow-covered floor.“Very well done, indeed! Quite a feat to bring the out of doors in.” 

“Don’t _tell_ him that!” Bud said with a scowl. “He doesn’t need anyone stroking his ego.” 

“But this is wonderful!” Megavolt boomed. “We can bring the festivities of winter within this very room.” 

“But _why_?” Jack pressed, all of them glancing over to Tony for an answer. 

At that moment, the elevator emitted a ‘ding’ and opened its doors to reveal Cap and his bestest best buddy the whole wide world (seriously, they’d been reunited after 70 years apart; most romances weren’t as strong), Drakey Barnes. Both ducks blinked at the scene before them. At the snow falling around the living room. At the rest of their household gathered around Frosty in various degrees of hypothermia. 

Cap was the first to recover, glancing at Tony and asking, “What did you do?” 

“I brought Christmas inside, Cap. Honestly, I’m starting to get a little disheartened by the fact that _none_ of you are appreciating my genius here. Except for Megavolt. Which is why he’s my favorite.” 

“Verily!” Megavolt exclaimed, smacking Tony on the back again. 

“A little less force there, buddy,” Tony coughed, trying to reclaim the breath stolen from him. 

“Why would you want to bring snow inside?” Drakey grumbled, sending a dark look to the swirling white that was settling around the room. “It’s _freezing_ in here now.” 

“Something you should be familiar with, right, Red October?” Tony sneered. 

He hated Drakey Barnes. 

Okay, _hate_ was a strong word. 

But he didn’t like him. 

Drakey was grumpy, with a permanent scowl on his beak and always stalked around the Tower like a duck half dead. And sure, he’d spent the last 70 years brainwashed and committed heinous crimes he now had to find a way to live with, but _smile_ every now and then, you know? 

And he bore a resemblance to Tony with his large bill, short stature, and wiry frame. Which was just insult to injury. Especially because Drakey had more muscle than Tony. 

Like… unfair. 

Launchpad frowned at Tony. “That was uncalled for.” 

“But questioning my motives isn’t?” Tony demanded. “No one has said anything positive about this, they just keep asking me why.” 

“Which you _still_ haven’t answered,” Jack pointed out.

“Maybe because I don’t want put on blast that none of us exactly had a normal childhood. Didn’t want to bring up the bad memories, and I thought for one day out of the miserable 365 when we weren’t fighting for our lives, or for the whole planet’s survival, we could have one of those classic white Christmases. But St. Canard isn’t supposed to get snow for the next few days, which ruined all my plans, so I built a machine to make it snow, but it had to be inside where I could control the damn environment and the living room is where everyone hangs out so perfect! Why not there? But no one wants snow, all they want is to know why and _who cares_? I built a machine, we have snow now, relax about it!” 

Shaking his head and muttering to himself, Tony stormed out of the room, taking the elevator down to his workshop. Turning up his music once he got there, Tony bent over his newest model of the Iron Duck armor, intent on fixing a few of the bugs MORGANA had found in their last test run.

Why had he bothered? God, try to do something _nice_ for a group of people for Christmas and suddenly it’s all skepticism. 

Granted, he’d been right when he’d said that none of the Duckvengers had had an idyllic childhood. Except maybe Megavolt. But he was an alien/god so that didn’t count. But the not-so-great-time-growing-up thing had given Tony the idea to create a _good_ Christmas memory for the team. Give ‘em all the day to enjoy the holiday season for once in their sad lives. 

It had been a rough year tracking down Drakey Barnes, after all. They _deserved_ this. 

The world wasn’t under attack. No one had any plans. They could all be together, celebrating the fact that they were a cohesive team spending a major holiday with each other, but instead of being excited about _snow_ inside their home, all they wanted to ask was _why_ and complain that it was cold or that they couldn’t use the living room now. 

Christmas was stupid. 

It was just marketing ploys to get people to buy things. Make you feel like less of an asshole because you got someone a pointless gift for the one day of the year where everyone pretended to be better people than they actually were. 

“Sir, Captain Rogers is asking for permission to enter,” MORGANA said, her voice soothing over the hard metal music. 

“MORG, you know better than to tamper with my music when I’m in the zone.” Having rewired the repulser, he reached for his soldering iron. “Tell Cap I’m busy.” 

“I have been, sir. He insists he won’t leave until he has spoken to you.” 

“He’s gonna keep waiting.”

“He has already waited for half an hour.” 

Tony paused in his work, finally tearing his eyes away from the gauntlet to roll them heavenward. “Stubborn son of a— Fine.” He set down the soldering iron. “If it’ll send him away. Let him in. And kill the music.” 

The workshop door slid open, revealing Cap, his beak set in a hard line. 

“Let’s just cut to the chase here,” Tony said before Cap had the chance to make him feel like even more of an asshole. “I’m sorry I insulted your friend. I’ll clean up all the damn snow which I don’t see why it _matters_ to any of you. This is still _my_ Tower last I checked, so if I decide to ruin some furniture and flooring, I can do it. I _own_ all of it—” 

“Thank you, Tony,” Launchpad said, his tone sincere and his volume slightly louder than usual to be heard over Tony’s babble. 

“—which I think some of you forget. It’s— Oh.” Tony blinked. “Oh, um. You… you sort of interrupted my rant. I had more. You know, things to say.” 

Launchpad smirked. “Sorry. Do you want to keep going?” 

“No. No, that’s….” Tony ran a hand through his feathers. “And I am sorry. About insulting Drakey. I didn’t…. I speak before I think sometimes.” 

“I hadn’t noticed,” Cap said, his eyebrows raising slightly, broadcasting to the world — or for those who were looking for it, like Tony — that he was being sarcastic. 

“Yes, haha, Tony’s an idiot.” He sighed. “Look, I’ll call someone to clean up the mess upstairs. MORG, is there—” 

“You’ll need to tear Bud away first. He and Megavolt are making snow angels.” 

“They’re… what?” 

Launchpad nodded. “Drakey and Jack started building a snowman. They think they can build one better than Dr. Banner.” 

“Fools.” Tony shook his head. “Reggie’s got science on his side.”

Launchpad grinned before sobering. “We do appreciate the gesture. I guess we’re all still learning to trust each other.” 

“Not like building snowmen and making snow angels are gonna _help_ with that.” 

“It’s not gonna _hurt_ , either.” Launchpad reached out and clapped Tony on the shoulder. “You did well, Tony. We needed some team building.” 

Not knowing what to say — cause what do you say to your childhood hero come to life when he compliments you? — Tony did what he did best. 

Deflected. 

Grinning up at Cap, he said, “Bet I’m gonna kick your ass in a snowball fight.” 

Launchpad walked back toward the elevator, shaking his head with a smile on his beak. “In your dreams.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the breakdown of the characters in the Duckvengers Universe:  
> 
> • Negaduck — Iron Man (Iron Duck / Tony Mallard)  
> • Launchpad — Captain America (Captain St. Canard / Launchpad Rogers)   
> • Bushroot — The Hulk (Bushroot / Dr. Reginald Banner)   
> • Megavolt — Thor (Megavolt Odinson)  
> • Quackerjack — Black Widow (Black Jack / Jack Romanov)  
> • Liquidator — Hawkeye (Liquidator / Bud Barton)   
> • Morgana — JARVIS  
> • Darkwing — The Winter Soldier (Drake “Drakey” Barnes)


	15. "It Came Upon The Midnight Clear" by Johnny Mathis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Amelia who has asked for more Avian Abbey material since she read “Did I Make The Most Of Loving You.”
> 
> This story takes place in between “I Bet My Life” and “Living On A Prayer.”

Given the enormity of the estate and accounting for everyone it housed, it was still fairly easy to come and go unnoticed. 

Trudging across the expansive grounds, Cummings reveled in the silent peace of the snowfall around him. The estate was rarely so still and being able to hear his own thoughts was quite the novelty. The added pleasure of his ensured solitude in thanks to the still softly falling snow only further soothed his rather frayed nerves. 

The Christmas season was all the more chaotic with the Mallard family inviting guests to the estate or being invited themselves to neighboring houses. The rest of the year was mad enough, to demand goodwill to men, when men did not deserve such things, was ridiculous. The season of forced cheer weighed heavily upon Cummings. 

Here, however, without others crowding him and where he was free from societal morays, he felt the crushing weight lift and ascend into the chilled air surrounding him. 

Reginald Bushroot, the head gardener, would have Cummings’s head should he discover that ’twas the valet whom had trampled across the grounds in so haphazard a fashion, leaving trails in the snow and more than likely crushing his beloved plants underfoot. Reginald would have to catch Cummings first— 

“Oh, my lady,” Cummings said, abruptly halting his progress as he saw Lady Gosalyn sitting upon the very bench he had hoped to use. Naturally. He’d always had the most rotten luck. 

Reaching up to pluck the cigarette from his beak, Cummings straightened his posture and tugged his coat down. “Has the evening concluded? Is his lordship awaiting me in his rooms?” 

“No, no,” Lady Gosalyn said, waving away Cummings’s concern. “I wanted solitude. They are playing games in the drawing room.” She glanced back, her beak curving upward in a gentle smile. “Though I seem to have commandeered your destination.” 

Like a thief in the night. 

“The bench is yours, my lady. I am not so arrogant as to request you leave.” 

“I imagine you would not use so many words.” Lady Gosalyn ticked her eyebrow up. “‘Piss off’ seems much more your style.” 

Cummings smirked. Several months ago, he would not have given her the satisfaction, but having Gosalyn visit, a version of Lady Gosalyn from another parallel world, had helped him see her humor more clearly. And her softness. Her genuine curiosity and strong spirit. He did understand the two ladies were separate, but learning about one and taught him about the other. 

Unintentionally. 

He had never gone so far as to consider Lady Gosalyn friendly, but now…. 

Now. 

“I’ll take my leave,” Lady Gosalyn said, rising and wrapping her shawl more securely around her shoulders, “since you are too much a gentleman to demand your privacy.” 

“I am no gentleman, my lady,” Cummings said, standing ramrod straight. “And I have no right to ask for such a thing.” 

“You did not. I offered.” She smiled and nodded once in farewell. 

“The bench is large enough for two, I should think,” he heard himself say. An extended invitation while still managing to be impertinent. If ever there was a phrase to accurately describe him, it would be that. 

Lady Gosalyn observed him in silence for a few nerve-wracking heartbeats — had he finally overstepped his bounds? What a dismal way in which to be sacked — before she smiled and motioned for him to be seated. 

That was how the valet Cummings came to be sitting beside the lady of the house in the snowfall on Christmas night. 

He moved to put out his cigarette when Lady Gosalyn said, “Oh, no, please. You halved your bench for me. I shan’t ask you not to smoke.” 

Cummings weighed his options for all of a second before raising the cigarette up to his beak and inhaling. “You are not like the others, my lady.” He blew out a puff of smoke. 

“The others being my step mother and sisters?” 

Cummings shook his head. “Others being everyone I have ever encountered before, my lady. You are quite unlike anyone else.” 

A silence descended upon them as they observed the snow covering the entire estate in a soft white blanket. 

Cummings had nearly finished his cigarette by the time Lady Gosalyn spoke again. “Do you think me very foolish?” she asked softly. 

“That depends on what we are discussing, my lady.” 

Another smile before she elaborated, “I was brought into this family, this life. It was not something I had to fight for and yet I have it. If not for Lord Mallard of St. Canard deciding to take me in, I would have been raised in the lower classes. Possibly become a maid. Kitchen maid more like. I would not have this station or this house or much of anything.” 

She glanced sidelong at Cummings before straightening and pulling her shawl snug around her. “So why was _I_ chosen? Why not any of the other orphans Lord Canard encountered? And why was I given this life when it could just as easily have been you who was granted the opportunity?” 

“I give entirely too much lip for his lordship to ever consider adopting me,” Cummings said, stabbing the cigarette into the snow. 

Lady Gosalyn laughed, which Cummings thought suited her more than the look of worry that had darkened her expression before. Sitting back against the bench, Cummings considered her query. 

Because he had often wondered the same thing. How had Lady Gosalyn been able to escape the lower class when he could not? Why _her_? Why _not_ him? 

Ever since the other Gosalyn from the parallel world had visited, he had stopped asking those questions. But it was not until now, sitting in the snow with this girl, that he realized he had ceased obsessing. 

For now he _knew_. There weren’t questions any longer because they had been answered. 

“As to your other questions,” he said slowly. Carefully. He had always entertained thoughts above his station; finding the appropriate words tongue-tied him. “It hardly matters that you were chosen. You were, that’s all there is to it. Your test began not when his lordship adopted you, but after. As you began to grow and everyone questioned what sort of lady you would be. And if I may say, my lady,” he looked over and met her eyes. “You have done well. You carry yourself with the dignity your position requires yet with the weight of what might have come to pass. You never forget where you came from, you certainly have not forgotten us downstairs, and for that we would all follow you to the ends of the earth. 

“His lordship is a good man and he treats us well, better than most. But you, my lady, have the unquestioned loyalty of us all.” 

Lady Gosalyn studied him for a moment before casting her gaze down to the snow, a blush creeping into her cheeks. “I was not aware sharing a bench would unleash so much.” 

Cummings grinned. “Blame it on the season. Emotions are much too close to the surface for my liking this time of year.” 

Lady Gosalyn chuckled. “So does this mean we are to be friends?” 

Cummings shrugged and cast his eyes heavenward to watch the snow. “If you must give it a name.” 

“Then I am honored.” 

He glanced down at her. “You know, my lady? I believe you genuinely mean that.” 

Lady Gosalyn smiled sweetly and stood from the bench. “I should be returning. Papa will wonder where I am.” She held out a hand. “Happy Christmas, Cummings.” 

Wiping his hand on his coat, Cummings lightly grasped her fingers in his. “Happy Christmas, my lady.” 

Even after she had left, Cummings sat on the bench, absorbing the stillness of Christmas around him. He would never be fond of the holiday, but if he was guaranteed moments such as these, he felt he might one day make peace with it. 


	16. "Meet Me Under The Mistletoe" by Dick Robertson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For leviprime, teh-bluejay, rubbersoles19, and raidenraccoon because there’s more GoMax in here. 
> 
> These next stories take place a year after “Here Comes Santa Claus”.

Max stepped aside to allow a waiter to whiz by before continuing across the room.

Gosalyn caught sight of him as he wove through the crowd and smiled. A whole year together and she _still_ caused butterflies to flutter in Max’s stomach whenever she smiled at him. Or looked in his general direction. Or laughed. Or when she did pretty much anything. 

He was totally gone for her. 

And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Such a gentleman,” she said, taking the champagne flute he held out to her. 

“Well, there are witnesses,” Max said smiling and nodding to Drake, who was standing near the gingerbread house on the other side of the room. 

The pastry had been built to resemble St. Canard this year and Drake had been hovering around it all night. He’d probably have notes to give to the baker about intersections and crossroads that were wrong. The angle of Audubon Bay Bridge off by a few degrees. Or any other untold minuscule details that weren’t _quite_ _right_ about Drake’s hometown. 

But he didn’t scowl or roll his eyes at Max. Which was progress.

Instead, he just watched the couple for a few moments before turning back to scrutinize the pasty city. 

“Ah, I see,” Gosalyn said, her tone light as she smirked up at Max. “So once we’re alone, you’ll make me get my own champagne.” 

Max nodded. “It’s like that ‘if you teach a man to fish’ theory. If I give you champagne, you’ll drink for tonight. If I let you find your own champagne, you’ll get to drink it forever.” 

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” 

“One of my many good qualities.” 

Gosalyn smirked as Max took a sip of his own champagne, glancing around at the festivities. 

There weren’t any meet and greet set ups this year. As Scrooge had predicted, the “meet your heroes” event that Max had put together last year had become its own evening shindig. Gizmoduck had been invited along this time, much to Drake’s chagrin. But the evening had gone off without any major catastrophes, and Scrooge had invited Max and Goofy along to his Christmas party as a reward for such a successful night with the heroes. 

And speaking of….

“Is Dad with Launchpad?” Max asked, unable to locate Goofy anywhere within the crowd. 

Gosalyn nodded. “They went upstairs to look at the tree.” 

That made sense. Goofy loved Christmas more than any other holiday and getting to attend the McDuck party as a guest this year instead of as Santa Claus had gotten him so giddy he’d practically been bouncing in his seat as they’d driven in from Spoonerville. He’d gone around the party with energy to rival any child, looking at all the decorations and talking to everybody. Launchpad had taken it upon himself to act as tour guide.

“So, overall, this party is a success,” Max said, smiling down at Gosalyn who raised an eyebrow. 

“A little early for that assumption, isn’t it?” 

He was about to respond — because a non-scowl from Drake Mallard and his father getting to celebrate Christmas alongside Launchpad McQuack was enough to let him declare this a win — when Scrooge McDuck took one one the mics the carolers had used earlier in the night and said, “Good evening, everyone,” into it.

Gosalyn smirked. “Told you.” 

Max drank his champagne to hide his grin. He knew better; Gosalyn was always right.

“I hope you are all enjoying yourselves and I wish to extend you the compliments of the season to each of you.” There were a few murmurs of agreement and returned sentiments from those gathered. 

“This year, I wanted to extend a challenge to any of you who might be interested.” He pulled out a large silver star from his pocket, one someone might put atop a Christmas tree. “I will be hiding this somewhere within the ballroom. At seven o’clock, you may begin searching for it. The first one to hand it back to me will get to be my second in command on one of my adventures that I’ll embark on in the New Year.” Scrooge grinned down into the crowd where Webby and his nephews stood collected in a group. “Good luck to those of you who choose to participate and, again, thank you all for coming.” 

There was a smattering of applause before everyone turned back to their conversations. 

Max, no exception to this, glanced at Gosalyn. “How many people d’you think’ll participate?” 

Gosalyn surveyed the crowd. “Maybe half. Scrooge’s adventures are known as much for their danger as they are for their excitement. I think the game is mostly meant for them,” she nodded to Scrooge’s family, all of whom were whispering furiously to one another. 

“That mean you won’t try to find it?” Max asked. 

Gosalyn took another drink of her champagne. “I never said that.” 

A thrill of excitement shot through Max at the thought of getting to see Gosalyn in action. She was very adamant that he not go on any sort of mission with her, but Gosalyn was a badass and he was desperate to see her skills for himself. 

He kept an eye on the clock, counting down the minutes and hoping the search for this star would warrant some sort of fancy combat moves from his girlfriend. 

At seven o’clock on the dot, about half the party goers began searching the ballroom for the star. Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby scattered across the room and seemed to communicate to one another via hand signals. 

Gosalyn swallowed the remainder of her champagne and handed the glass to Max. He glanced at her expectantly. 

This was it. 

The moment he’d been waiting for. 

His girlfriend was gonna sweep the floor with everyone else and find the star and be Scrooge’s second in command— 

“I’m going to use the restroom,” she said before heading up the staircase.

Or. 

You know.

Not. 

“Where did Gosalyn go?” Dewey asked, popping up out of nowhere and causing Max to practically jump out of his skin. He lost his grip on Gosalyn’s empty champagne flute, but managed to snag it out of the air before it shattered on the ground. 

“Warn a guy before you do that again, yeah?” Max said.

Dewey shook his head. “Second in command is at stake. I can’t take any prisoners. Gosalyn? Where’d she go?”

Max straightened to his full height. “Bathroom.” 

Dewey nodded and darted away, sending Huey some sort of gesture that had the red-clad duck head for the bar in the back of the room. 

Max shook his head and handed the empty champagne flutes to a passing busboy with a smile. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and watched the crowd of eager would-be adventurers look for this star. 

Gosalyn returned and stood beside Max, watching everyone around them. 

“You gonna start looking?” he asked. 

He wasn’t trying to push her into something she didn’t want to do. He was just…. 

Excited. 

He was freaking _excited_ , okay? 

He wanted to see her find the star and kick everyone else’s ass. 

Gosalyn glanced up at him, mischief in her eyes. “Scrooge said the winner would be the one to hand him the star. Once they,” she pointed to the nephews and Webby, “go to all the trouble of finding it, I’ll take it from them, hand it to Scrooge, and be the winner.” 

“So I’ll finally see you in action?” Max asked, unable to hold back a grin. 

Keep it cool, man. 

Keep it _real_ cool. 

She shrugged. “Maybe. Let’s get something to eat. By the looks of it, this’ll take a while.” 

An hour later and no one seemed any closer to finding the star. The people who had been looking had slowly lost interest or had gotten distracted by the festivities.

The only people who continued to search were Scrooge’s family members. They were starting to grow frantic and messy, running into people and checking areas they’d already visited several times over. Gosalyn didn’t do much of anything besides watch the group intently. 

Twenty minutes later, the triplets and Webby gathered together in the middle of the dance floor, whispering excitedly and glancing around the room. It looked like something had been stuffed down the front of Louie’s shirt, which didn’t go unnoticed by Gosalyn. 

“Show time,” she said, standing up from the chairs she and Max had relaxed into by the fireplace. 

“After you’re done kicking ass, meet me over there,” Max pointed on the other side of the fireplace. “Under the mistletoe.” 

Gosalyn rolled her eyes. “Sap.” 

“ _Your_ sap,” he said, completing their customary endearment with a smile.

She returned his smile and ran a hand through his hair. “Kiss for luck?” 

“You don’t need it,” he assured her, but pulled her down for a brief kiss all the same. 

Gosalyn’s fond smile turned into a knowing grin as she disappeared into the crowd. 

Seriously. 

Merry Christmas to Max. 


	17. "I Saw Three Ships" by Lindsey Stirling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Amelia who loves the Lindsey Stirling Christmas album and suggested a few songs from it for this series. Once I heard the beat and the violin, I immediately thought of Scrooge McDuck, and this is the end result. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I am using the original DuckTales series in this world. The triplets and Webby are aligned with the original show rather than from the current series.

This “find the star and become Scrooge McDuck’s second in command” thing, like any other mission, was all in the strategy.

There had been the option of out numbering the triplets and Webby with team Darkwing present at the party, but Launchpad had no interest in going on an adventure where _he’d_ be in charge and Drake didn’t see any glory in the prize. Oh, sure, he’d _considered_ finding the star. Even looked around for it initially, but he could never go on any adventure where he’d have to be _second_ in command. 

Besides, going away with Scrooge McDuck meant he’d have to leave St. Canard unprotected for however long he was gone. Which he would never let happen. 

So, Gosalyn was on her own here. Hence the mind games. 

Webby and the triplets had done the hard part by finding the star. 

Now all Gosalyn had to do was take it from them. The _how_ was the only question. 

Making her way through the crowd, Gosalyn kept her eyes on the ducks, who were still talking amongst themselves. Webby and Dewey were looking around the ballroom, big sweeping glances that probably meant they were looking for Scrooge. So they weren’t going to make a big show about handing it over. That was smart. Didn’t want any other interested parties to do what Gosalyn was about to do and fight for it. Louie was cradling his shirt, the fabric outlining the star so clearly he could have been holding it out for all to see and it wouldn’t make a difference. And Huey was chatting incessantly to them all, probably planning what he would do when he was second in command. 

Tucking her secret weapon more securely into the waistband of her pants, Gosalyn reached out to grab— 

Dewey’s gaze landed on her. His eyes going round, he cried, “No!” and lunged towards her. 

She really would have preferred to be stealthy in her theft of the star. But okay. 

Gosalyn side stepped Dewey easily; he had just sort of run at her, arms held out wide. It was almost sad. As he barreled past her clumsily, obviously not having thought that Gosalyn would just _move out of the way_ , she twisted around and hit him on his lower back, sending him sprawling to the ground. 

Webby cried out Dewey’s name and ran for him. Knowing Webby would be too preoccupied with making sure her friends were unharmed as they were taken down one by one, Gosalyn continued on, eyes fixed on Huey and Louie. 

Louie gulped. 

Huey stood his ground, hands balled into fists as he called, “Uncle Scrooge? We found the star!” 

Gosalyn grinned. She had them changing their tactic already. This was gonna be so easy. 

Huey assumed a fighting stance, his legs wide to evenly distribute his weight and shoulders hunched, ready to move into action.

Gosalyn feigned to the left, feigned to the right, stuck a foot in between his, and with a kick, swept his legs out from under him. Leaving no time for anyone else to react, Gosalyn pounced on Louie. 

Sitting atop him, one foot on the floor near his head and her opposite knee on his other side pinning his arm to his body, Gosalyn leaned forward. She gripped the front of his shirt. “Hand it over.” 

Louie swallowed again, eyes wide. “I-I don’t have it,” he said. 

Gosalyn raised an eyebrow. “Either you hand it over or I take it. Do you _really_ want me rooting around in your shirt?” 

Louie tried to scramble away, but Gosalyn easily held him in place. 

“I don’t have it!” he insisted. 

Gosalyn clicked her tongue in disapproval and reached for the hem of Louie’s sweater. 

“Wait, wait!” Louie said, squirming and trying to get free. 

Something — or, rather, _someone_ — crashed into Gosalyn from behind, shoving her forward and bringing her beak to beak with Louie. The attacker wrapped their arms around her, securing her elbows to her sides. 

Since she was already practically lying on top of Louie as it was, she slipped her fingers up his shirt and grabbed ahold of the star. Shoving herself backwards, Gosalyn pushed her elbows free, her ambusher releasing his hold on her.

Tossing a scowl down at Louie, Gosalyn leapt up to a standing position and tucked the star into the waistband of her pants. 

Whirling around to face her attacker, she had enough time to see the panic on Huey’s face before she’d grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. 

“Nice try,” she breathed into his ear, eyeing Webby and Dewey as they started coming towards them. “But the star is mine.” Shoving Huey forward, she couldn’t help but smile as he crashed into Dewey and Webby, momentarily distracting them. 

Turning to run, she didn’t even take a full step before Louie grabbed her ankles, tripping her. 

As she fell towards the ground, Gosalyn reached back for her secret weapon and hurled it across the room. 

Exclamations and shouts echoed around her as she fell harmlessly to the floor, easily tucking into a roll. Feet shuffled and scrambled and by the time she was standing, the triplets and Webby were racing toward Scrooge, silver and gold star held aloft in triumph. 

Gosalyn grinned. 

And started ambling towards the group. 

“Well done, kids,” Scrooge said, smiling at them. “Now which one of ye gets to be second in command?” 

Drake caught Gosalyn’s eye, an expression of concern on his face. She smiled at him reassuringly. 

“Can we each have our own adventure?” Huey asked, handing over the star. 

“We’d _all_ like to try being second in command, Uncle Scrooge,” Webby gushed.

“We _did_ work together on getting the star,” Dewey pointed out. “So we all equally deserve it.”

Max glanced at Gosalyn and she winked at him, maintaining her leisurely pace. Max narrowed his eyes in suspicion, glancing between her and the McDuck clan. 

“Hold on,” Scrooge said, studying the star. 

Launchpad grinned and flashed a thumbs up at Gosalyn who nodded in return.

“This isn’t the star I hid.” Scrooge looked at the young ducks before him, his brow furrowed. “It was silver. This one’s silver tipped in gold.” 

“No, that _has_ to be the star,” Louie argued. “I saw it fly out of Gosalyn’s—” 

Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby all glanced at one another before turning to stare at Gosalyn. 

Who now stood behind them. 

[ “I _think_ ,” Gosalyn said, grabbing the actual star from where she’d tucked it away, “this is the star you want.”  ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/0e565af1aa930a83427cf8676031f916/tumblr_njnqxci9FA1rsw6q7o1_500.gif)

Scrooge took the star to study it, and Gosalyn explained, “I figured that if you four thought you had the real star, I’d be able to hand over the real thing without much of a fight.” 

“Afraid we’d win?” Huey asked, looking somewhat smug. 

“That makes sense. It would have been four against one,” Webby put in, nodding sagely. 

Gosalyn withheld an eye roll. “I wanted to work smarter, not harder.” 

“Where did you get _that_ star?” Dewey nodded at the one in Scrooge’s hands.

Gosalyn glanced up at the Christmas tree on the second level of the ballroom. That was now missing the star atop its branches. 

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Louie asked as Scrooge burst into laughter. 

“Curse me kilts, I’d hoped we had underestimated you!” the old duck said, walking over to Gosalyn. “I must admit, I was hoping ye’d give these kids a run for their money, and not only did ye do that, but ye managed to win as well.” Scrooge smiled at Gosalyn. “How would ya like a job?” 

Gosalyn glanced at the triplets before looking back to Scrooge. “I wasn’t aware second in command was a paying gig.” 

“Not the second in command! Though, I will allow ye the opportunity of comin’ along on an adventure; I’m a duck of me word. No, lass, I’m talking about a job. With me.” 

“A regularly paying thing?” Gosalyn asked. 

Scrooge eyed her. “Only when yer on the clock, mind.” 

“Maybe you ought to explain what this job is, sir.” Gosalyn said, allowing Scrooge to lead her away from the crowd. 

And so he did. He described her duties: she would be on call for any potentially dangerous adventure that arose and would have to immediately respond to any SOS call that came out during the duration of the mission. Occasionally, Scrooge might bring her along on an adventure from the start, but only when he expected more trouble than he considered normal. Gosalyn would get the benefit of working with Scrooge McDuck, traveling around the world and, sometimes, going through time and to other parallel universes (which he knew she could handle since she’d traveled to parallel worlds before). 

After Gosalyn convinced Scrooge to give her full health benefits in exchange for a decrease in pay, she accepted. 

Her father looked stunned when she told him, Goofy and Launchpad just congratulated her, saying it was a great opportunity, and Max gave her the kiss he’d promised under the mistletoe. 

Gosalyn officially became Scrooge McDuck’s Strike Team Omega that he would call in to help on adventures.

Honestly, this wasn’t even the strangest Christmas Gosalyn had experienced.


	18. "It Feels Like Christmas" from The Muppet Christmas Carol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wrote itself.

Launchpad was accustomed to having friends spanning across many miles. He tended to get along with just about everybody, and so he usually ended up knowing at least one person in any given town he was visiting. 

Even with all of Launchpad’s experience with friendship, Goofy had still been a surprise.

“I’ll get Maxie all them games,” Goofy said, loading up the shopping cart. 

“And I can get Gos the gaming system,” Launchpad surveyed the boxes, reading all the numbers and symbols as if any of it made sense. All that mattered was the name of the thing, which Launchpad had confirmed with DW no less than five times. 

Maybe he should still DW a photo just to be sure. 

“Y’think they’ll figure out that they’re gettin’ gifts to go ‘long with each others’?” Goofy asked, peering over Launchpad’s shoulder at the consoles. Going with his gut, and vaguely remembering there being an “X” in the title, Launchpad stood beside the console and Goofy helped him lift the box into the cart. 

“Even if we got them their own sets of games and consoles, they’d still end up at Max’s place playing everything together.” Launchpad pushed the cart through the crowd of holiday shoppers, heading toward the registers. “This way we’re saving a step.” 

Goofy turned to follow, but tripped over something — he did that a lot — and crashed into a comic book display, sending volumes flying as he yelped in surprise. Launchpad ducked behind the cart to avoid getting hit by a wayward book. 

As far as crashes went, Launchpad would give it a 8/10. Smoke billowing from the crash site would have given Goofy an automatic 10, but there was plenty of time to perfect his technique. 

Once the books had settled along the floor, Launchpad walked over to Goofy and offered him a hand. 

But Goofy waved the help away, righting the display. “Think I’ll be more help down here,” he said with a chuckle. 

Launchpad helped to put the comics away, recognizing the cover as he did. “I got Gos this series last year.” 

“Maxie’s read ‘em, too,” Goofy said, studying a book as Launchpad continued sorting and shelving. After a moment of silence, Goofy looked up at Launchpad with something like dismay on his face. “This is a new story.” 

“What?” Launchpad looked at one of the comics more closely and, sure enough, “the continued adventures” was printed under the large block title. 

He glanced at Goofy with a sheepish smile. “I’ll get half of them for Gos, you get the other half for Max?” 

Goofy grinned. “A-hyuck! Sounds swell!” 

Launchpad grabbed one of each the comic books and placed them in the shopping cart as Goofy finished putting the display back together. 

“Excuse me?” asked a woman, a desperate look on her face. “Where are the children’s clothes?” 

Goofy turned around, arms laden with books, and glanced back and forth down the aisle. “Thought I saw 'em that a way.” He pointed to the right, a few comics tumbling to the ground. “Or was it back there?” He turned the opposite way and scratched his head, more books falling from his arms. 

Launchpad stepped forward. “I’ll finish up here if ya wanna go look for it with her.” 

Goofy nodded, a determined look on his face, before dumping the comics he was holding into Launchpad’s arms. “C’mon,” he said to the woman. “S’gotta be ‘round here somewheres.” 

“ _Thank you_ ,” she said, following Goofy. 

Launchpad finished putting the comics back, making sure he’d grabbed one of each volume. For some reason, a few other harried shoppers approached him with questions, but he was able to point them in the right direction. Goofy passed by the aisle Launchpad was standing in twice, so sure he’d find the department the woman was looking for that she didn’t look irritated in the slightest that they’d retraced their steps twice. 

Goofy’s kindness and determination had been what had initially drawn Launchpad to him. DW was plenty determined and Gos kind, but Goofy had both traits in spades. He was also unendingly loyal with an easy going disposition.

Not to mention they both crashed. 

All the time. 

_And_ they were inherently clumsy. 

But they were able to laugh off their more awkward accidents and walked away from their crashes. Which made them good crashes. 

Within the hour — and after having the store manager thank them for their help but asking them to leave the store’s organization and customer assistance to the employees — Goofy and Launchpad were on their way back to Goofy’s house in Spoonerville. 

After Mr. McD’s Christmas Party, it had been easy enough to stop by the small town to pick up a few last minute items while Gos and DW returned home to St. Canard. Launchpad was returning home later tonight, most of his Christmas shopping now done. 

And if he got to enjoy the choir singing songs in the park, and see all the quaint decorations up throughout the small town while he was there, he was all the better for it. 


	19. "It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year" by Andy Williams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For teh-bluejay who asked for a GameStop employee interaction with Drake. 
> 
> (I’ve never been to GameStop myself, but I asked a reliable source [Amelia] and watched some videos online so I hope this is what you were looking for!)

Drake heaved a relieved sigh as he dumped his purchases on the register’s counter. Flexing his hands, he hoped the feeling would return to them soon. He really should have gotten shopping basket or cart or something, but by the time he’d thought to grab one, he had already been holding the wireless controller and travel gaming console and it would’ve been awkward to go back to the front of the store to get anything, so he’d just grabbed the last of his items and went to stand in line. 

For half an hour. 

Drake _hated_ Christmas. 

The cashier plastered a smile on as he began to scan Drake’s items. “How are you today, sir?” 

Drake muttered something incoherent as he dug out his wallet, fingers still not quite fully functioning. He fumbled a few times but eventually wrestled it free from its pocket.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” the cashier asked. 

Sighing, Drake grabbed his credit card and tapped it on the countertop. 

Eyeing Drake’s card, the cashier reached for a pamphlet and opened it, displaying it for Drake to view. “I see you don’t have our super savings shoppers rewards card, sir. If you sign up today, you’ll get up to 40% off on all of your items and points that you could use on any future purchases.” 

“No, thanks,” Drake glanced at his items. “Just these today.” 

“Are you sure, sir? You could save a lot of money—” 

“Stop selling me more stuff I don’t need. Just scan my things so I can get home.” 

The cashier carefully folded up the pamphlet, Drake running his hand through his feathers as he tried to keep his cool. It wasn’t like he’d been here for almost two hours between finding parking, hunting down his items, then standing in that stupid line. 

Except, oh, wait. 

It was _exactly_ like that. 

“Do you have the other version of this game?” the cashier asked, holding up the box with the cartridge in it. “If you haven’t played the first four, then this one really won’t make much sense—” 

“Listen here you little parasite,” Drake snapped, leaning forward. He stopped himself from grabbing the cashier by the collar of his shirt, but just barely. “If you do _anything_ but scan these things and then let me pay for them, I _swear_ I’ll—” 

A few screams emitted somewhere behind him and Drake glanced around, eagerly searching for the cause. 

It wasn’t hard to find. 

“Video games rot your brain. Buy a tasteful Quackerjack toy instead!” Quackerjack spread his arms out, releasing his hoard of toy soldiers, teddy bears, baby dolls, monkeys playing cymbals, fire engines, and classic wind-up teeth. 

Thank God. 

His frustration evaporated, Drake turned back to the cashier. “So are you gonna bag my stuff or not?” 

“Are you crazy?” the cashier shrieked, dropping down behind the counter. 

Drake rolled his eyes and glanced around for a discreet location. One corner was hidden by a large display for the newest game release, so he ran over towards it, kicking away a toy soldier that tried to shoot its musket at him. Hiding behind the display, and seeing dust bunnies that would rival those in Gosalyn’s room — seriously, how often did they clean this place? — Drake pulled out his emergency suit. 

And changed into his alter ego. 

Tossing out a gas canister, he waited for the blue smoke to begin wafting into the air before saying, “I am the Terror that Flaps in the Night! I am the super savers shoppers rewards card that you’re forced into buying! I am Darkwiiiing Duck!” He leaped out of the smoke and sent a glare at Quackerjack. 

The toy maker pouted. “No fair! Playtime was just getting _started_.” 

“Pack up your toys, Quackerjack,” Darkwing said, walking toward the villain and pulling out his gas gun. “Your play date’s cancelled.” 

Quackerjack glowered but that was the last thing Darkwing saw him do because the next moment, all the lights in the store went out, plunging everything into darkness. 

Either that was the most convenient blackout _ever_ , or Quackerjack wasn’t working alone. 

A spark of electricity flashed near the back of the store and another voice declared, “My poor children! Don’t you worry, your uncle Megavolt will free you from this awful place of imprisonment.” 

The caped crusader whipped out his night vision goggles — he never left home without them — and was able to easily keep track of Megavolt and Quackerjack despite the darkness. 

Darkwing _loved_ Christmas. All the criminals went on huge crime sprees, eager to cash in on the added merchandise and extra money surfacing as people blew budges on expensive gifts and the newest developments in technology. 

The rest of the store was in pandemonium, everyone running for the exits, some customers with their un-purchased items still clutched in their arms. But they were for the police to track down. 

He had bigger villains to fry. 

Or short circuit.

Grabbing one of Quackerjack’s fire engines, Darkwing ran to the back of the store where Megavolt was unplugging all the TVs he could get his hands on. Darkwing unwound the small hose and located the button near the back of the toy. 

“Not so fast, Megavolt,” Darkwing said, pressing the button. A deluge of water poured out of the hose — more than should ever be in a children’s toy; what had Quackerjack been thinking? — and hit Megavolt in his battery pack. The villain shorted out with a yelp, collapsing onto the floor. 

He shook his head and glared into the darkness. “You brought the _fire engines_?” he cried. 

“They’re a _classic_!” Quackerjack shot back. 

Pulling out a few zip ties from his suit, Darkwing bound Megavolt with little fuss and turned to locate Quackerjack. 

The clown was cackling, shining a flashlight on his teddy bears and dolls as they removed the games and consoles from the shelves and handed them to the monkeys who crushed everything with their cymbals. Ever since Wiffle Boy had become popular in St. Canard all those years ago, Quackerjack had sworn a vendetta against all electronic entertainment. It was a futile battle, but Quackerjack’s single-minded obsession kept Darkwing busy, so he couldn’t complain. 

Quackerjack always walked around with his pockets stuffed with toys and today was no exception. A jumprope was half-dangling out of one pocket and Darkwing lunged to grab it, pulling it free. 

The toy maker must’ve felt it being removed because he whirled around, the flashlight beam searching for the perpetrator in the darkness. Darkwing dodged the light as best he could while Quackerjack called, “Toy soldiers, attack!”

But toys were as blind in the dark as anyone. They managed to run into one another and fire their weapons their shots hitting the store’s the merchandise and some of the other toys, effectively incapacitating them. 

Darkwing grinned and tied Quackerjack up in the jumprope. He’d taken a few classes on lasso wrangling and had an official certificate boasting his accomplishments. Quackerjack wasn’t going _anywhere_ until the police arrived. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Darkwing said, brushing his hands down the front of his suit. “Can’t get the drop on Darkwing Duck _that_ easily.” 

“How did you even now we were _here_?” Megavolt asked, his voice somewhat muffled from his position in the back of the store. 

“Ha! Like there is _any_ crime that happens that I don’t know about,” Darkwing said. 

“I bet he was here buying Christmas presents,” Quckerjack sneered. “You need to keep your mind active as you get older, Darkwing. Video games’ll just bring on dementia faster.” 

“I’ll take the chance,” Darkwing spun on his heel, heading for the door.

Removing his night vision goggles, Darkwing stepped out of the dark store and into the winter sunlight. 

And there, in the parking lot, sat Negaduck on his motorcycle. Sitting forward, his hands crossed one over the other on the handlebars, his beak resting atop his wrists as he surveyed the citizens fleeing the store with a pleased look on his face. 

The two mallards were equally surprised too see the other, staring at their double as people around them sprinted away, screaming and shouting. 

Negaduck was the first to react, loosing a curse before he kicked his engine to life and sped away. 

Darkwing leaped into action, following Negaduck and grabbing his gas gun. Stopping on the sidewalk, he aimed at the retreating motorcycle and fired. The canister sailed through the air and hit the back of Negaduck’s tire, exploding in a cloud of Darkwing’s trademarked blue smoke. 

The impact of the canister alone was enough to make the motorcycle wobble dangerously, but the thick cloud of smoke added to the attack, effectively blocking Negaduck’s vision. 

The bike swerved and toppled, the yellow blob that was Darkwing’s archiest of arch nemeses rolling off onto the sidewalk. 

Leaping up, Negaduck glanced back at Darkwing before he raced headlong into the park. 

Darkwing took off down the street. 

It really _was_ the most wonderful time of the year. 


	20. "Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy" by Lindsey Stirling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Amelia who asked for this song to be used and for ice skating. Neither are probably what you expected, but these boys do what they want.

That was the last time Negaduck would arrange a crime because his lackeys were _bored_. He’d thought letting them loose, giving them a chance to metaphorically stretch their legs, would put a stop to their incessant whining and restless energy. And if Negaduck got to steal some cash from the abandoned store after Megavolt and Quackerjack had their fun, well, that was purely a coincidence. 

But now he had Duncewing on his ass, ready to fight when Negaduck hadn’t even _done_ anything. If he was going to fight against Dimwing, it had better be for a good reason. Waiting in the parking lot to enjoy the chaos and then jump in to grab a few thousand bucks was _not_ the prelude Negaduck wanted before a battle. 

Dipwing Dork ruined _everything_. As usual.

Swerving down the footpath, Negaduck wondered where he could hope to hide within the park. He wasn’t exactly inconspicuous wearing all these bright colors. And it had snowed a day or so ago, causing Negaduck to be an even bigger target against the white ground. 

He could duck into the city. Leave the park all together and hide in urban jungle instead. Dumbwing would stay in the park, searching until he’d combed over every snow covered rock and tree. And that would be _hilarious_ to watch, his goody-two-shoes double searching for him when he wasn’t even there. 

But Duncewing would never give up. He’d keep looking for Negaduck until he found him. Even if it meant staying out all night. Which would then draw out Launchbay and Gosalyn because _of course_ those two would come looking for the idiot if he never came home. Which would really defeat the purpose of Negaduck’s visit; it was supposed to be a small fast job. In and out then gone. The more heroes that got involved was annoying and was so not the point. 

So, he had to be caught. 

And if Negaduck was going to be caught, he was gonna go down with a fight.

In the spirit of making Dorkwing really work to find his nemesis, Negaduck ran towards a small cart selling candy canes and other sweet holiday assortments. The vendor and her few customers recognized Negaduck immediately, all of them darting away as the Masked Menace grabbed the sides of the cart and yanked, the set up easily crashing to the ground. He did the same to a few more stalls and carts set up along the walkway, creating a path of chaos and destruction in his wake. And hopefully setting up barriers between him and his righteous double. 

Dodging behind a small copse of trees, he slid into a snowbank, hunkering down in the powder. Glancing over his shoulder for his Dudley do right double, Negaduck began to mold some of the snow into spheres. 

After a few minutes, Doltwing raced through the park, gas gun at the ready and eyes trained on the ground, following Negaduck’s path. 

Negaduck took aim and fired off his snowballs one right after the other. Dumbwing raised his hands over his head for protection and dodged behind a tree. When he glanced around the tree to try and see where the Masked Menace was hiding, Negaduck pelted him right in the beak with a snowball. Cackling as the snow cascaded down Dorkwing’s face, Negaduck sprang up from his hiding place and sprinted away. 

Towards the center of the park. Where an ice skating rink had been set up next to the Christmas tree. Families were gathered around, parents watching their children ice skate and taking photos of the decorations. 

Not his first choice, but Negaduck sort of knew how to ice skate. And it would be harder to catch him if he was on a slippery surface. 

He barreled through a gazebo, weaving in between musicians playing festive music and grabbed a music stand. Shaking off the sheets dotted with musical notes, he paused at the bottom of the gazebo, weaving the stand through the railing on either side of the stairs before continuing onward. 

Negaduck had pushed someone aside and grabbed a pair of ice skates from them when he heard, “Ha! Your feeble attempt to trip me up won’t work, Negaduck!” 

He glanced back and caught sight of Dopewing leaping over the music stand. 

But the hero had miscalculated his dismount because he slipped on the icy pavement and fell backwards, the snow exploding around him in a cloud of white. 

Negaduck laughed, shoving his feet into skates. “Guess you’ll slip up even without my help!” he called, tugging the laces tight. “Make as snow angel for me while you’re at it!” 

His skates secure, Negaduck leapt out onto the ice, taking a moment to orient himself before skating to the far side of the rink as everyone scattered for the entrance to escape him. 

Dipwing eased himself up out of the snow, brushing off his suit as he hobbled over to the rink. 

Negaduck raised an eyebrow. “Give up, Duncewing. You’ve already slipped once. Why make more of a fool of yourself than normal?” 

Dumbing tucked his gas gun away with a huff. “You think a little ice is going to stop Darkwing Duck?” He grabbed a remote out of his cape and pressed a button. Which apparently gave him instant ice skates because the next second, the Terror-that-Flapped-to-annoy-Negaduck-into-an-early-grave was gliding onto the ice. 

Dorking stumbled a few times, but he didn’t fall outright, which was disappointing. Skating farther away from his enemy, Negaduck scowled. 

Parents led their children away from the rink, couples clung to one another as they darted out of the park, and a few brave souls had the gall to gather around the rink’s perimeter to watch, phones out to film the altercation. 

Dopewing took up his position across from Negaduck, brandishing his purple cape. “Let’s get dangerous!” he cried before skating as furiously as he could toward Negaduck. 

Negaduck grinned maliciously and advanced toward Duncewing. He curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest to get low. Hoping Doltwing would anticipate him leaping up in attack, Negaduck circled wide around his double. 

Dipwing did exactly as Negaduck hoped, stretching an arm out in anticipation of Negaduck’s jump attack. But Negaduck came from underneath, grabbing Dumbwing’s wrist as he rose up to his full height. With a cackle, Negaduck yanked Dorkwing’s hand to the side, causing him to spin around and around in faster tighter circles. 

Negaduck watched in glee, hands on his hips to soak in his triumph, until something snagged his cape and he was pulled down with Dopewing as the hero crashed down onto the ice with a thud, feet in the air. 

The blades of Dipwing’s skates glinted in the Christmas lights, momentarily blinding Negaduck. 

Wait. 

Blades. 

He really should skate more. A mode of transportation with built in weapons? _Hell_ yes. 

Reaching down and yanking off one of his own skates, Negaduck swung his arm back, blade aimed for Duncewing’s hand still entwined in his cape. 

Something grabbed Negaduck’s wrist, stopping his attack. 

Growling, Negaduck whirled around, ready to _eviscerate_ whoever had the _nerve_ to interrupt a fight between the hero and villain. 

But all the fight drained out of him when he saw a pair of enraged green eyes. 

Gosalyn. Looking as furious as Negaduck had ever seen her. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her tone cold enough to rival the ice beneath Negaduck. 

“He started it!” Dopewing said, rolling onto his side and pointing at Negaduck. 

“ _Me_?” Negaduck said, facing the hero with a dark look. “ _You_ were the one who chased me.” 

“Because you ran!” Dipwing sat up with a groan, letting go of Negaduck’s cape. 

“What _else_ was I gonna do? Let you arrest me without a fight?” Negaduck yanked his hand free from Gosalyn’s grip and shoved his bare foot back into the skate. 

“ _That_ ,” Dorkwing said with a glare to Negaduck as he pushed himself up onto his feet, “would have been nice.” 

Negaduck rolled his eyes. “In your _dreams_ , Duncewing.” 

“Enough you two!” Gosalyn said, standing between them and glaring at each of them in turn. “It’s almost Christmas. Can you two give it a rest for a week? Or a few days?” 

“I will if _he_ will,” Negaduck said, getting to his feet and nodding to Dopewing. 

“I wasn’t the one robbing a game store!” Dorkwing said. 

“Neither was I!” Negaduck growled. “Did you get a concussion when you fell?” 

“Stop,” Gosalyn said, leveling a glare at both mallards. “Dad, you’re going to S.H.U.S.H. medical.” 

“I’m fine—” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Gosalyn snapped. “You’re going. Negaduck—” 

“I know,” he said around a sigh. “I won’t come anywhere near your holiday. But tell _him_ ,” he pointed at Dipwing, “that he needs to not piss me off in the meantime.” 

Gosalyn held up a hand to stop Doltwing from responding and said, “I was going to invite you over for Christmas.” 

“ _What_?!” both mallards exclaimed at the same time. Dipwing wobbled and slipped in his surprise, Gosalyn easily catching him before he crashed onto the ice again. 

“I know you two will never get along, but can you at least pretend to maybe tolerate each other?” She righted Duncewing on his feet. “For one day?” 

The mallards sized one another up, but they both knew they’d agree to Gosalyn’s request. Because she’d asked them to. 

Dopewing was the first to recover, standing tall and sticking his beak out. “I’m okay with it.” 

Negaduck snarled. “I’m _excited_ for it.” 

“You’re not as _thrilled_ as I am,” Dorkwing said petulantly, pointing a finger in Negaduck’s chest. 

“All right,” Gosalyn said, grabbing her father around the shoulders and directing him back towards the rink entrance. It was then that Negaduck realized that she was also wearing skates as she expertly glided across the ice with her father beside her. Max stood at the entrance and helped Dumbwing over to solid ground. 

Once Doltwing was situated, out of the skates and walking away with Max at his side, Gosalyn skated back over to Negaduck. She must’ve caught his impressed expression because she shrugged. “I played hockey in middle and high school.” 

“Which means I can’t out-skate you,” Negaduck muttered with a roll of his eyes. 

“Like you could escape me even off the ice,” Gosalyn said with a shake of her head. “C’mon, Papa Wolf.” She reached for him but he backed away. Clumsily.

Gosalyn’s expression shuttered as she put her hands up in surrender. “Just don’t want you to fall,” she explained gently.

Negaduck scoffed, pretending her reaction wasn’t like a shot to the gut. Had it always been this hard to interact with her? Ever since his return from Oblivion, Gosalyn was so _hesitant_ around him. But he wasn’t an invalid. “I’m _fine_ ,” he bit off.

“Okay.” She skated backwards — which just wasn’t _fair_ — and motioned to the entrance. “After you.” 

Negaduck straightened and slowly but surely made his way across the rink unaided. Gosalyn still followed at a safe distance. 

When he reached the ground, he stumbled over to a nearby bench and sat down hard, yanking the skates off his feet. 

Gosalyn was soon crouching beside him. “Do you need to visit medical, too?” 

He sent her a patronizing look before dropping the skates on the ground. Like he’d ever let anyone look over his injuries. 

Securing his fedora on his head, he stood. 

“The police have impounded your motorcycle.” Gosalyn stood as well, her eyes fixed on his face. “You’ll want to use the park entrance by Fifth. They have the other entrances blocked off.” 

Negaduck nodded his understanding and glanced around at the now empty park. Even pesky looky-loos were gone. 

“See you at Christmas,” Gosalyn said with a small smile. 

Negaduck hesitated, the enormity of his promise descending upon him. 

He’d agreed to spend a major family holiday with Gosalyn, Dopewing, and Lordpad. 

Holy. 

Shit. 

With a stiff nod, Negaduck hurried out of the park. 

He tried to tell himself that he needed to escape from the cops and he wasn’t running away from this invitation and all it stood for. 

And it even almost worked. 


	21. "My Heart Is Calling" by Whitney Houston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This song isn’t technically Christmasy, but it was released with "The Preacher’s Wife," so I’ve been told it counts. 
> 
> For Amelia because I don’t think one ice skating fic is enough.

Watching Negaduck practically run away from her made Gosalyn reconsider her offer. Maybe forcing her father and Negaudck to celebrate Christmas together wasn’t, you know, _wise_. 

But if they saw that they could spend one day — even just a few hours — not at one another’s throats, maybe they would think twice before wrecking the park and fighting on an ice rink in front of innocent bystanders.

Idiots. 

“Darkwing’s on his way to S.H.U.S.H.,” Max said, approaching with a gentle smile. 

She nodded and checked her phone. “So’s Launchpad. He’s flying straight from Spoonerville to check on Dad.” Gosalyn sighed and glanced around, just in case there was another villain who was gonna jump out of the bushes. But all was quiet. “We should go, too.” 

She stepped around Max to take her skates off, but he put a hand on her arm, stopping her. When she glanced up, he was still smiling. “Let’s go on our date.” 

Gosalyn raised an eyebrow. “After my father had to be escorted to medical for a possible concussion?” 

“I mean. I guess that’s true.” Max shrugged. “What can I say? You skate well. I’m impressed.” 

“I’ll skate well tomorrow.” She tried to walk to the bench again, but Max stepped in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. 

“We have the whole rink to ourselves,” he pointed out. “Shame to waste that.” 

“Max, this place is a _crime scene_.” 

He sent her a mischievous smile and he _knew_ what that did to her knees; it was a good thing he had his hands on her shoulders or she’d be a puddle on the snow. 

“Five minutes won’t kill anyone,” he said.

“Not now that I separated those two,” she said around a sigh. 

“So we might even have ten minutes.” Max’s eyebrow quirked upward. 

Gosalyn pointed a finger to his chest. “Five minutes. Then we go to S.H.U.S.H. to check on Dad.”

Max grinned as he sat on the bench and tugged on skates. “Absolutely.” 

Gosalyn hadn’t had the chance to take off her skates yet, so she returned to the rink. “I’m not gonna have to catch you from falling every five seconds am I?” she asked. 

Max tied his skates and carefully walked over, only wobbling dangerously once. “Here’s hoping.” 

With a sigh and steeling herself to keep a wary eye on her boyfriend, Gosalyn held out a hand to steady him as he stepped onto the ice. Max took it, his fingers tight around hers. 

Gently pulling him onto the ice, Gosalyn watched his feet, ready to dart to whichever side he toppled down on.

As soon as his blades hit the ice, Max pushed off smoothly, one foot stretching in front of the other effortlessly. 

Gosalyn, who was skating backwards to keep up with his momentum, glanced up at his face. “You know how to skate.” 

Max grinned and released her hand, holding both of his up as if to brag about not having to use them. “Sure do.” Turning around so he was skating backwards alongside Gosalyn, he sent her a smug look. “I competed in the college X-Games.” 

She smirked. “Looks like you were pretty good.” 

He shrugged. “I won all four years, so. Yeah. I was okay.” 

She snorted. “Just okay, huh?” 

Max slowed his pace, Gosalyn matching him until they came to a stop. Holding out his arm, Max sent her a smile when she wove her arm through his. He tucked his arm against his side, ensuring Gosalyn’s hand was secure. 

“You can decide for yourself,” he said. 

Then he shot forward, keeping Gosalyn right alongside him. 

She’d never realized how nice it was to do an activity with someone who was as athletic as her. Launchpad, although he stayed in good health, had never been sports oriented. He was too clumsy and prone to crashing. Her father had his own intensive workout routine, but he was otherwise too busy crimefighting to take part in sports. Not to say he hadn’t helped her out with her sports as she’d grown up, but he didn’t jump at the chance if another activity was on the table. He was much more of the video games type of dad. 

Usually Gosalyn had recruited the Muddlefoot boys to play sports with, but Tank cheated and Honker was never particularly good at sports. Or anything physical. 

But with Max. 

He was taking initiative with turns and spins, unafraid of falling or taking a misstep. There was the surety of a professional athlete about him. How had she not seen that before? 

Sure, she’d seen the half pipe in his backyard in Spoonerville, but a lot of kids had sports equipment installed at home that was used with less frequency as they got older. So she hadn’t thought anything of it. 

And they hadn’t done anything athletic together over the past year. Their jobs exhausted them, Max’s mentally and Gosalyn’s physically, so any time they got to spend together was more relaxed. Dinners. Video games. Comic books. Binge watching shows or having movie marathons on long weekends. They had a lot of movies to catch up on, after all. 

But now that she knew that he was an athlete and a good one at that…. So many more date possibilities stretched out before her. 

Max, who had been leading them in tighter and tighter circles, released her suddenly only to grab her hand and spin her around on her own. When she spun to a stop, Max was there, wrapping an arm around her waist. With a soft smile, he pushed onward, leading them along the edge of the rink. 

Gosalyn leaned into him, a thrill shooting through her when she felt them moving in sync. “You’re not too bad.” 

Max chuckled. “I always aim for just above average.” 

She looked up at him as he glanced down to her. 

He was so close. 

If she stretched up like this and he leaned down like that— 

“Hey!” came a faraway voice. 

Max and Gosalyn both stopped on a dime and searched for the source. A police officer was making a beeline for them, yelling, “The park’s closed!” 

In a flash, Max and Gosalyn had left the rink and were yanking off their skates. Before the officer had even gotten halfway to the rink, the two of them had their regular shoes on and were running out of the park in the opposite direction. The officer called for them to stop, but the young — and athletic — couple was too far ahead. 

They ducked out from under the police caution tape surrounding the park and burst out laughing. They jogged down the sidewalk to ensure they’d put enough distance between them and their pursuer. 

“I think we took longer than five minutes,” Gosalyn panted when they finally slowed to a walk. 

Max grinned, studying her with soft eyes. “Still wasn’t long enough.” 

“We can go back,” Gosalyn said brightly. “Especially now that I know you can take care of yourself on the ice.” She looked up at him and asked, “Why didn’t you say anything? About being athletic or the X-Games or any of it?” 

Max blushed. “I may have wanted a big reveal where I got to show you in person what I can do. This was, uh, the only thing I could think of that wouldn’t give away my intentions.” 

She smiled up at him. “Well, you’re pretty amazing, Max Goof.” 

He smiled and entwined their fingers together. “I’m all right.” 

She pulled him to a stop rocked onto her toes to kiss him. 

When they broke apart, Max was still smiling. “Let’s go see how your dad is.” 


	22. "I Won't Be Home For Christmas" by Blink-182

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an unintended combination. teh-bluejay suggested the song. rubbersoles19 wanted a fic where we saw Darkwing’s childhood. 
> 
> So, naturally, my brain melded them together. I hope you guys like it!

Negaduck. Supreme ruler of the Negaverse. Public Enemy #1. Darkwing Duck’s arch-iest of arch nemeses. 

Was coming to Drake’s house for Christmas. 

And he hadn’t had a bad Christmas ever since Gosalyn had come into his life. Well, there was that one year he’d been in the hospital, but _other than that_. Amazing. Magical. All of them. 

But _this_ one. _This_ year?

Drake was already worried that it would rival his Worst Christmas Ever.™ 

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

The officer came into the cell block and approached the door. “Drakey Mallard?” 

Drake rolled his eyes. Great. Now everyone in here had heard his childhood nickname. Awesome. 

For a moment, he considered not answering. Just staying right there on the bench through Christmas. 

But the more rational side of him wanted to leave, so he stood reluctantly with a murmured, “Yeah?” 

“Bail’s been paid.” The officer unlocked the cell door and swung it open. “Yer goin’ home, kid.” 

Great. 

Just great. 

Heaving a sigh and stuffing his hands into this sweatshirt pocket, Drake trudged out of the cell, careful not to make eye contact with any of the other inmates. 

“Drakey” had sort of ruined his chances at being cool. 

Following the officer to the front of the station, Drake tried to keep his breathing even, his temper under control. 

He could do this. 

He _could_. 

Rounding a corner that led to the main lobby of the station, Drake came face to face with his father. 

Stellar Mallard leveled him with a sharp glare but didn’t say anything. Just pointed to the main entrance doors. 

Drake heaved a sigh but obeyed, trudging out into the chilled winter air. 

Their Volkswagen was parked sloppily in one of the visitor spots, the front tire crossing the white dividing line. But hey. A for effort, right? 

Turning to his father in disgust, Drake said, “Did you drive _yourself_ here?” 

“No one else was able to take me,” Stellar said, glaring down at Drake. “’S three in the mornin’, Drakey.” 

“Don’t call me—” Drake sighed and glanced back at the crooked parking job. “How’d you figure out I was here?” 

“Ol’ buddy o’ mine who still works on the force.” Stellar gave Drake a sidelong look. “Were ya gonna call?” 

Drake shrugged. He would’ve rather been caught dead than call his old man for help. 

“Better give me the keys,” he said, holding out his hand. “You’re probably not sober.” 

“I’m sober enough! ‘Sides, I didn’ think I’d have to bail my damn kid outta jail now did I?” Stellar said, fumbling through his pockets for his car keys. 

Drake scowled but didn’t say anything. 

Stellar was usually drunk more often than he was sober, especially since Ana had died earlier that year. Not like Stellar had been sober much _before_ she’d passed. Drake had stopped counting how many times Stellar had tried — and failed — to go through AA. It was always the same empty promises (“I want to get better”, “I want you to be proud of me”, “I want to live a normal life” blah blah blah) but Stellar had stopped making all of those promises, empty or no, hitting the bottle even harder since the funeral. 

For Ana, Stellar had tried — however pathetically — to change. 

For Drake, Stellar rolled into a police station at 3am, barely sober, because a concerned friend had called. If the phone call hadn’t come, the older mallard wouldn’t much care one way or another what his son had done or where he’d gone. But the call had forced responsibility on Stellar, the friend probably working the night shift — maybe he was the officer who’d used the name “Drakey” — and had been keeping an eye on the Mallard boy until the father appeared. 

After the fifth time of Stellar searching his pockets and coming up empty, Drake intervened. “Did you drop them?” 

“Nah. They’re here somewhere.” 

“Did you leave them inside?” 

“I told ya I have ‘em and I have ‘em.” 

“I don’t think you do.” 

“Y’know what, you ungrateful little delinquent?” Stellar growled, turning his hooded eyes on his son. “The next time ya get arrested for defacing public property, Imma let you sit in that cell and rot.” 

“Good,” Drake spat. “I wouldn’t want you to come bail me out anyway.” 

Stellar stuffed his hands into his pockets then pulled out the ring of keys from his coat triumphantly and rattled them in Drake’s face. “Told ya I had ‘em.” He spun towards the car, saying, “You can walk your ungrateful ass home.” 

“You can’t _drive_ ,” Drake said because even though he was 18, he was the adult. He’d always been the adult. 

“Drove myself here, didn’t I?” Stellar pointed a finger at Drake. “Don’t you bother comin’ home unless you got an apology ready.” 

“Then you’re not gonna see me again.” 

Stellar sneered and climbed into the car, muttering to himself the whole time. He peeled out of the parking lot not bothering to glance over his shoulder as he left his son behind. 

But this was better. Drake hadn’t wanted to spend Christmas with his father as it was, hence the wandering around the streets late at night. And drawing on the department store’s Santa set up. Honestly, those smiling elves and eight tiny reindeer had been asking for it. 

Hunching over, Drake left the precinct and headed towards the Bay, hoping to find some peace and quiet away from all this holiday cheer. 

Christmas had never been what it looked like in the movies. His mother had tried to make it special, had brought in decorations and what presents she could afford. Made a traditional dinner. But then Stellar would barrel in, sloppy drunk and angry that he hadn’t taken part in any of the festivities. 

So Drake avoided the holiday. Wanted nothing to do with it. But it was _everywhere_ with its lights and its Santa displays and its gingerbread and its carols that he wanted to pull his feathers out. 

Audubon Bay was, in retrospect, a bad place to go when you wanted to avoid Christmas. The suspension bridge was adorned in lights and wreaths, a cheery welcome to anyone coming into town. Drake sighed, crossing the street and walking onto the bridge. Cause where else was he gonna go? Back home? No way. The only path for him was forward. 

Maybe he would just keep walking. All the way to Duckburg. Not look back. Get a fresh start. 

But that was the thing. 

He didn’t want to be in a different city. 

He wanted to be anyone other than _Drake Mallard_. Drake Mallard was a wimpy dorky loser with no career prospects and, now, a criminal record. Drake Mallard was weak and boring. 

He wanted to be someone exciting. Like the heroes in those comics he still kept shoved under his bed. They had exciting lives and everyone loved them. If he was like that, if he was the _hero_ , he’d be respected by the citizens of St. Canard and feared by the criminals. 

There seemed to be no end to the Christmas decorations around him and Drake felt like he was drowning. He needed to get away. Get up somewhere to breathe. Somewhere high where no one would bother him. 

Glancing up, he caught sight of one of the bridge’s topmost towers. Sizing up the one closest to him, Drake wondered if he could climb all the way to the top. It was probably quiet up there. And far away from anything Christmas related. 

As he contemplated whether to climb or stay put, snow started to fall and effectively made up Drake’s mind for him. It was Christmas enough with the decorations, but with the _snow_ on top of that? 

No, thanks. 

He glanced around for any cops before jumping up onto the suspender and shimming his way up the cable. He climbed up to the top of the tower, relieved when the building sitting at the peak was an empty space. And that there was no glass in the windows. 

Heaving himself up and over, Drake plopped into the tower. 

Where it was dark and not Christmasy at all. It _was_ cold all the way up here above the city, but he could deal with that. Because he felt like he could _breathe_ up here. And there was so much _room_ , a first and second floor connected by a spiral staircase. 

And all unused if the mounds of dust were anything to go by. 

Drake inhaled.

And exhaled. 

This was nice. The solitude. The distance. 

Peering out of one of the windows, Drake didn’t think Christmas looked so bad from up here.  

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

 This Christmas couldn’t be as bad as that one, right? 

No, he was actually asking. 

Because no one else seemed phased that _Negaduck_ would be in their _home_ on _Christmas day._ Launchpad drove them home from S.H.U.S.H. like everything was normal. Gosalyn dispensed the meds S.H.U.S.H. had given Drake then sent him to his room to rest. 

She ended up staying with him all night, making sure his concussion wasn’t more serious. And each time he woke, he _remembered_ and seriously? 

Was _no one else_ going to _freak out_ over this? 


	23. "All I Want For Christmas Is You" by My Chemical Romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Bookworm Gal who asked for the song (though I'm the one who chose to use My Chemical Romance's version). I hope you like it and thanks for your wonderful support through all of this!

To say that he was freaking out would be an understatement. 

Negaduck was absolutely positively 100% losing his mind over this. 

Christmas. 

With Dipwing Dunce, Launchbay and Gosalyn. 

In their _house_.

It was so _normal_. 

What did normal people even _do_ on Christmas anyway? 

No, he was actually asking. 

Because Negaduck’s experiences with the holiday were far from normal. Cowering underneath furniture to hide from his drunken enraged father. Going into town with his parents, the city decorated within an inch of its life, and trying to act like they were normal. Hiding the fact that they were falling apart so rapidly that the cracks in their carefully constructed wall of normality were busting apart, bleeding out their pain and suffering. 

Standing in his living room, looking at the Christmas decorations Gosalyn had helped him put up a few weeks ago, Negaduck wondered what he was supposed to do. 

When he went to spend Christmas with her and Dipwing Dork and Lilypad. 

Because he didn’t deserve this. To celebrate a _normal_ Christmas. 

_This_ was what he’d earned: an empty broken down home with a busted heater and the lingering threat of a panic attack just on the edges of his sanity. He’d been the one that had isolated himself. Built his empire to run on fear. His rules were law and he had never needed any backup or support. 

Until Gosalyn. 

_She_ deserved happy Christmases. 

Without her, he was nothing. A washed up villain who didn’t have the sense to die. Not from being stranded in Oblivion. Not from Paddywhack blowing him to kingdom come with a tron-splitter. Not from Stellar’s torture or his attacks in Oblivion. 

Negaduck was too damn stubborn and look where it got him. 

Recognizing his racing heart, quick gasps for air, and mounting fear as the panic attack come in full force, Negaduck turned to go upstairs. To hunker down and wait for it to pass. 

But on his way up, his clumsy shaking fingers got tangled in the garland wrapped around the banister. He jerked away, intending to free himself, but managed to rip some of the garland down instead. 

He froze, eyeing the decorations on the floor before leaping down and grabbing the garland up in a rush. 

He had to put it back. The _exact_ way it had been. 

His fingers shook harder as he tried to weave the garland around identical to how he’d seen it. But he couldn’t get a solid grip on it. It kept sliding through his feathers, not willing to weave through the railing. 

Damn it! He had to make sure there was no sign he’d been here. No indication whatsoever that he was upstairs. 

That way when Stellar came by, the old mallard would just think the house was empty and not bust through the front door searching….

Wait. 

That’s _right_. 

Negaduck _wasn’t_ in Oblivion where any little noise would alert Stellar to his location. Where he had to cover his tracks, make it look like he didn’t exist, so his father wouldn’t be able to find him. 

He was in the Negaverse. Where he was in charge. 

Grabbing the garland, Negaduck yanked, a feeling of satisfaction easing the tightness in his chest as he watched the entire string fall into a pile on the floor. 

Looking toward his living room, a wicked grin spread across his beak as he walked toward the tree, rolling up his sleeves and letting his panic take over. 

It wasn’t until he stood in his front yard, flamethrower in hand, that he realized he’d gone too far. 

Luckily, he kept a fire extinguisher in the garage for instances such as these. 

Grabbing it, Negaduck barreled back inside, coughing at the thickness of the smoke as he extinguished the flames that had licked around the interior of his house. 

His living room was gutted. So was his bedroom and kitchen. Gosalyn’s room was untouched, but the house creaked dangerously when he tried to go inside and reclaim his sanity. 

This would do it. Negaduck setting fire to his own damn house because he couldn’t deal with _Christmas_. Gosalyn would see how hopeless he was and leave him. All he would have left of her would be his mostly destroyed house and a bedroom filled with her belongings. 

Negaduck collapsed onto the charred floor, tossing the spent fire extinguisher aside and trying to catch his breath. 

Gosalyn had only ever been the one thing Negaduck wanted. 

But Negaduck didn’t get what he _wanted_. 

Only what he brought on himself. What he deserved. 

And he sure as _hell_ didn’t deserve Gosalyn. 


	24. "White Christmas" by Panic! at the Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Bookworm Gal, who suggested the song. A Merry Christmas Eve to all!

For the first eight years of Charles Dickens’s life, it snowed on Christmas Day. So in his stories, when it was Christmas, it was snowing. Which helped to perpetuate the idea that it always snows on Christmas Day. In reality, white Christmases were rare and didn’t happen more often than they did. 

But still the idea persisted. 

A white Christmas. 

The idyllic Christmas. 

Launchpad didn’t know how many actual white Christmases he’d experienced down to the exact _number_ , but he’d had several. _Idyllic_ Christmases, however, he’d had plenty more of. There had been a few that hadn’t _quite_ reached the level of Christmas magic he had come to expect, but for the most part, he enjoyed his holiday memories and looked back on them with warm fondness. 

_This_ Christmas, though. 

He tried to keep an open mind about everything, especially circumstances that had not come to pass, but he was pretty anxious about how tomorrow would go. 

“What if he decides to not show up?” Launchpad asked, picking up another Christmas tree shaped cookie and slathering frosting across its surface. 

“All the better for me,” DW said darkly, scowling at the snowman cookie he was placing chocolate candies on. 

Gos studied the candy cane cookie before her. “If he doesn’t come, he doesn’t come,” she said, her tone light. 

DW glanced up at Launchpad before looking over to Gos. “If it doesn’t matter whether he shows up or not, why bother inviting him at all?” 

Satisfied with her cookie, Gos placed it back on the cooling rack and picked up a stocking shaped one next. “Because it’s Christmas and no one should be alone on Christmas.” 

“Even hardened criminals?” DW countered. 

“I didn’t say that.” Gos reached for the yellow frosting, not looking up at her father. “But for Negaduck, I’m willing to make an exception.” 

DW studied his daughter. “So I’m supposed to just welcome my arch-iest of arch nemeses into my home on Christmas Day without even putting up a fight?” 

“All you two ever do is fight,” Gos pointed out, outlining the cookie in frosting carefully. “I’m asking for one day of _not_ fighting.” 

“ _Christmas_ Day?” DW lamented. 

“Would you rather Arbor Day? Christmas is perfect. You’re supposed to help others and do selfless acts of kindness. What better way to extend the meaning of Christmas than offering up your home for a few hours to someone you’re not fond of?” 

“You make it sound so easy,” DW said, his voice hard. “He’s not just someone I don’t see eye to eye with, he’s my biggest enemy.” 

“To me, it _is_ easy,” Gos said, that stubborn spark shining in her eyes as she focused on DW. “Negaduck is someone I care about. I know he’s going to be alone on Christmas. So I invited him over.” 

“Without asking me,” DW grumbled. 

“Okay, you’re right that I should have asked you first and I’m sorry I didn’t. But Dad, Negaduck is _alone_. You shouldn’t be alone on any holiday, but especially not Christmas. I’m not saying you have to like this. I’m not saying you have talk to him. I’m asking you to let him sit down for a few hours and to try and not start a fight.” 

DW looked at Gos for a moment before getting up from the table. “Put the cookies in the Tupperware when you’re done.” 

After DW left the kitchen, Gos set down her decorating tools on the table and leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. 

Launchpad finished decorating his tree in the silence and put it on the cooling rack. There was one cookie left undecorated, a Santa Claus, so he picked it up. 

Exhaling heavily, Gos asked, “Have I gone too far?” 

Launchpad grabbed the red frosting. “It is a big request.” 

“Just tell me what you really think and not what I want to hear.” Gos met his eyes. “Please, Launchpad.” 

He fiddled with the cap of the frosting tube as he spoke. “I don’t know if you have gone too far, Gos. DW’s upset. And I don’t know Negaduck like you do, but I can imagine he’s not happy about this, either. They won’t ever be anything other than enemies.” Launchpad reached across the table and took Gos’s hand in his. “But I think this is the right thing to do. They will probably fight and you can’t stop that, but maybe they’ll sit in the same room and not kill each other. Because they both care about _you_. Maybe that’ll be enough.” 

Gos sighed. “This is either going to be a disaster or halfway decent.” 

“Well,” Launchpad said with as smile as he spread frosting across his cookie, “I’m hoping for a white Christmas.” 

He wasn’t sure if Gos associated white Christmases with idyllic Christmases like he did, but his comment made her smile in any case. 

Later that night, Gos and DW talked more, resulting in DW begrudgingly accepting Negaduck coming over and promising to do what he could to be civil. Gos promised to consult DW on future visits and the two of them settled on the couch with Launchpad to watch TV. 

The weather forecast showed the cold temperatures and a tentative promise of snow tomorrow. 


	25. "Angels We Have Heard On High" by The Piano Guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone!
> 
> This is for raidenraccoon who asked for Drake and Negaduck spending the Christmas holiday together (and I hope you feel better soon!).

If she was entirely honest, the purple suit threw her off when she opened the front door. 

But she hid her hesitation well, smiling brightly and saying, “Merry Christmas!” 

Negaduck glowered at her from under the violet fedora. 

They’d decided it would be easier to explain why Darkwing Duck was visiting for Christmas instead of Negaduck. It had been Drake who had suggested “Darkwing” come to his house since it would continue to give weight to the idea that Drake Mallard and Darkwing Duck were two separate ducks. 

Negaduck, though, had never fully jumped on board, something that was confirmed when he muttered, “This is stupid.” 

“I have one of your suits in my room; you can go upstairs and change,” Gosalyn assured him. 

Negaduck looked somewhat taken aback at that, but he ground his teeth and scowled. “Like wearing this dumb costume is the _problem_.” 

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Gosalyn said, trying to hide the disappointment at the thought of him leaving early. It was impressive that he’d shown up at all; she needed to remember his limits and not get caught up in her own needs to have him close during the holiday. 

“But at least come in out of the snow for a few minutes,” she said, stepping out of the doorway and motioning inside. 

Negaduck eyed the hallway, swallowing as he shifted his weight. “I don’t know how Christmas is supposed to work,” he confessed, panicked eyes flying up to Gosalyn’s face.

She smiled at him softly, her heart breaking at how desperate he looked. “Let’s start by getting you warm.” 

Negaduck took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and marched inside. 

Closing the door behind them, Gosalyn asked, “Do you wanna stay long enough to change into your own suit, or do you just want to taunt Dad then leave?” 

Negaduck glanced up from the living room to upstairs before regarding her. “Who’s here?” 

“Me, Dad, and Launchpad.” 

“Not your _boyfriend_?” he sneered. 

“When you don’t have the pressure of _Christmas_ on top of what will be a very awkward day, maybe you and Max can be in the same room.” 

“So looks like Max is here to stay?” Negaduck grumbled. 

Gosalyn nodded. “Can I say the same about you?” 

Negaduck blinked, hurt flashing in his eyes. “You’re…. Are you actually _asking_ —?” 

“For today,” Gosalyn quickly amended. “Sorry, I was trying to be clever and— I know you’re always gonna be around.” She laughed nervously and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “This is off to a great start, huh?” 

Negaduck shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Don’t have much experience with Christmas.” 

“What’s taking so long? Is he afraid to show his face?” Drake asked from the living room. 

“Only because I don’t want anyone seeing me in your stupid suit, Duncewing,” Negaduck shot back. 

Gosalyn smiled. “You wanna stay?” 

Negaduck sighed. “I have to now. Can’t have _him_ ,” he nodded to the living room, “thinking I’m a coward.” 

“Too late!” Drake called. 

Negaduck ripped the fedora off his head. “You know _what_ —” 

Gosalyn placed her hands on Negaduck’s shoulders and pushed him towards the stairs, saying, “Go change. Your suit’s on my bed.” 

Negaduck’s eyes returned to her face as he studied her. “Knew I’d be staying, huh?” 

“I hoped.” She nodded towards her room. “Go on.” 

After making sure Negaduck had gone upstairs, she returned to the living room. Her father glowered at her from the couch and Launchpad smiled from one of the armchairs. 

“ _Please_ try and be civil,” she said.

“Only if he will,” Drake countered. 

Gosalyn shook her head, at a loss for what could be done. She’d just have to believe Launchpad when he’d told her that both mallards would try to get along for her sake because so far? Not going according to plan. “Guess we’ll see how this goes, then,” she said around a sigh. 

Drake eyed her before he, too, sighed. “I know this is important to you, Gos, so. I’ll try.” 

Gosalyn sat down beside him and kissed his cheek, which took some of the tension out of his shoulders. 

When Negaduck came back down to the living room, now dressed in his normal suit, he glanced at Gosalyn and groused, “Your room’s a mess.” 

Drake’s eyes grew wide and he uncrossed his arms. “I’ve been telling her that for _years_.” 

“Does she keep a clean room in the Negaverse?” Launchpad asked. 

“Not really,” Negaduck said. “But it’s got nothing on _that_.” 

Drake looked over to Gosalyn. “Will this finally get you to clean your room, young lady?” 

“None of this is very Christmasy,” Gosalyn said. 

“Want me to toss some tinsel around in there to get you in the holiday spirit?” Negaduck asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Not like you’d be able to tell it was _there_ with all the other stuff lying around,” Drake pointed out as he shook his head. 

“Negaduck, do you wanna sit down?” Gosalyn asked, motioning to the free armchair by Launchpad. 

“ _I’ll_ sit there!” Drake said, all but leaping over to it. “I, uh, like the angle I get.” He settled into the seat awkwardly. “You can see the whole living room without having to turn your head.” 

“And it leads to Darkwing Tower,” Negaduck said, taking the free seat by Gosalyn on the couch. He sat forward, not relaxing, but he was sitting. In her living room. Which was progress. 

“ _What_?” Drake asked, his voice high. “That’s — where did you get that idea—?” 

“I’ve been here before,” Negaduck pointed out. “And I have— had the same thing rigged in my house.” 

“Is your Tower not useable anymore?” Launchpad asked, catching Negaduck’s change from _have_ to _had_. Just like Gosalyn did. 

“It was barely usable to begin with,” she said. 

“I _was_ afraid for my life when we were hiding out in there,” Drake said. “And that’s saying something since we were in the _Negaverse_ at the time.”

“And to think, all this time, all I needed was a rusting Tower to defeat you,” Negaduck said with a roll of his eyes. 

Gosalyn covered her beak to hide her smile while Launchpad coughed to disguise his laughter. 

Drake scowled and said, “Can we go back to how messy Gosalyn’s room is?” 

Negaduck ended up staying for about an hour before he and Drake really started to argue, but Gosalyn was willing to work with an hour. 

More than willing. 

The two had _sort of_ gotten along until the topic of recent crimes came up. The park incident was mentioned, and nothing nice was said after that, both mallards swearing up and down that they would have been the one victorious if Gosalyn hadn’t intervened. 

Gosalyn took Negaduck back up to her room to change while Launchpad took Drake to the kitchen to check on their dinner. 

“You can stay if you want,” Gosalyn said, sitting on her bed and smoothing the Darkwing cape Negaduck was borrowing. “For dinner.” 

“Kid, that was as close to Christmas as I get.” Negaduck stepped out of Gosalyn’s closet, tugging down the sleeves of the Darkwing jacket. “Is that all you do on holidays? Just… talk?” 

Gosalyn shrugged. “Kind of hang out in general. We eat a big meal, too. Exchange gifts. And _speaking of_ —”

“If we do a gift exchange in Darkwing Duck’s house, I’ll never speak to you again.” 

Gosalyn smiled. “Relax. I need to set up your gift in your house. When’s a good time for me to come over?” She reached out to take his Negaduck uniform from him, which he’d balled up and shoved under his arm currently. 

But he didn’t hand it over. Instead, he shifted it to his front, fingers digging into the fabric. 

Gosalyn looked up at him and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You can be there when I am,” she assured him. “I’ll even let you watch me set it up—” 

“You can’t come over anymore,” Negaduck said. 

And there was _definitely_ more to that explanation, so Gosalyn waited in the silence. 

Eventually, Negaduck sighed. Still not meeting her gaze, he said, “There’s no home to go to.” 

“What happened?” she asked, keeping her tone gentle. Because if someone had attacked his house, Negaduck wouldn’t be so reluctant to talk about it. 

His knuckles were white, his grip unrelenting on his costume. “I, uh. Set it on fire.” 

“On purpose?” 

Negaduck scowled at her. “I’m not _that_ irresponsible.” 

“But you _were_ that angry.” Gosalyn forced a small smile. “At least you’re not bottling up your emotions anymore.” 

“Yeah, who knew it would take Christmas to get me out of this slump?” He flung his costume to the ground. 

Gosalyn studied him for a moment. She had to be careful — _so_ careful — about how she approached this. “If you were that upset about coming over, you could have told me,” she eventually said. 

“It wasn’t _anger_ ,” Negaduck growled, running a hand through his feathers. “It was… I wasn’t _angry_.” 

Knowing all too well about Negaduck’s trouble with self-loathing, Gosalyn searched for the right words to soothe him. It was clear that he didn’t want to talk about it (because _not-anger_ wasn’t a real answer to anything). And he was probably terrified out of his mind about how the next few minutes would go.

He had, at least, started destroying things again, which he hadn’t been able to do since he’d returned from Oblivion. 

But his _house_. 

The one place he’d called his own and protected with a ferocity he did with little else. 

“Do you have somewhere to stay in the meantime?” Gosalyn eventually asked. 

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, as if he was waiting for some other reaction to eventually play out. “I’ll go to one of my arsenals.”

“To cozy up with all your weapons?” 

He shrugged, dropping his gaze back down to the floor. 

Sarcasm wasn’t working right now. 

Back to careful sincerity, then. 

“Does it have heating?” she asked. 

He blinked and looked up at her. “It’s a _warehouse_.” 

Translation: no, it didn’t. 

“Do you have some sort of cot there?” she said. 

“What does _that_ have to do with anything?” he demanded. 

Translation: no there wasn’t. 

“Okay, you’re staying here.” Gosalyn stood, Darkwing cape in one hand and purple mask in the other. 

“ _What_?” 

“Well, not _here_ here,” she amended, handing him the cape. “At the Tower. There are beds and central heating there. _And_ a fully stocked kitchen.” 

“I’m not—” 

“You’re really going to stay at your well hidden arsenal and inevitably give away its location with all your comings and goings?” Gosalyn raised an eyebrow. 

Negaduck snatched the cape out of her hand and secured it around his shoulders. “Dipwing’ll never agree to this.” 

“You’re homeless on Christmas,” she said gently.

“Gos,” Negaduck said around a sigh. “I’m not gonna stay in the Tower.” 

“Give me five minutes with Dad,” she said, handing over the purple mask. “And pick up your costume. I know how easily it wrinkles.” 

As Negaduck predicted, Drake was not enthusiastic about letting his arch enemy stay at his secret hideout. “He’s gonna steal my stuff!” 

“If he wanted to do that, he would’ve already done it one of the times he was there,” Gosalyn pointed out. 

“He’ll learn all my secrets!” 

“He’s _you_ from another universe! He already knows everything.” 

“He’ll learn S.H.U.S.H. secrets.” 

“It’s _Christmas_.” 

“Ha!” Drake pointed at her in triumph. “You don’t have an argument for that!” 

“Dad,” Gosalyn said, stepping forward, her tone gentle. “ _Please_.” 

Drake studied her. “What if there’s a crime that Darkwing Duck has to answer to?” 

“Then you’ll go and fight crime.” 

“With him just _there_?” 

“Dad, he has nowhere to go.” 

“Then put him up in a hotel somewhere.” 

“While he’s dressed as Darkwing Duck or Negaduck?” 

Drake sighed, clearly not willing to have his heroic image tarnished by checking into a hotel on Christmas Day. 

“Do you want me to stay there with him?” she asked. 

Drake blanched. “On _Christmas_?” 

“Okay, not tonight,” she quickly soothed. “But maybe the next few days? While we figure stuff out.”

Drake sniffed. “Does that mean he’ll sleep in my bed?” 

“I’ll sleep there. He can take mine.” 

Drake crossed his arms. Then put his hands on his hips. “I’m running out of excuses.” 

“I’ll keep arguing if you want,” Gosalyn offered, smiling at him. 

Drake shook his head. “I want to go on record as saying I do _not_ like this.” 

“So, he can stay?” 

“If S.H.U.S.H. is infiltrated after tonight, I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’.” 

“He has no interest in S.H.U.S.H..” She hoped. 

Drake sighed and threw his hands into the air. “Fine. It’s not like you needed my permission; you were gonna do it anyway.” 

Gosalyn hugged him. “Not without asking you this time.” 

Drake returned her embrace and kissed her forehead. 

Negaduck staying in Darkwing Tower all on his own wasn’t how Gosalyn had envisioned Negaduck spending his Christmas, but at least he wasn’t freezing to death back in the Negaverse. And he had a bed (after confirming three separate times that it belonged to _her_ and not Drake or Launchpad).

He sat on the edge of her bed, looking around his surroundings, and nodded when she said she’d be staying the night with him tomorrow and until they figured out a solution. He didn’t say anything, not even when Gosalyn left for home. 

But he and Drake had walked away from Christmas unscathed, so Gosalyn was already calling it a success. 

Upon returning home, Gosalyn found Launchpad staring out of the living room window. He turned to face her with a smile on his beak. 

“Turned out to be a white Christmas after all,” he said, nodding to the window and the gently falling snow beyond. 

Gosalyn smiled in return and settled to watch the snow with Launchpad. They were eventually joined by Drake, who brought cocoa with him. 

Definitely a success. 

Weird and awkward, but a success.


	26. "Little Drummer Boy" by Josh Groban

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For viridianrebooted (viridianvenus) because I couldn’t resist writing more young Gosalyn and Drake.

On a scale of Christmas in the hospital to literally any other Christmas with Gosalyn, this one ranked just above the hospital year. 

Because he’d had to spend Christmas. In a hospital. 

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

Drake flopped onto his side with a snarl, grabbed his thin hospital sheet, and tugged the material over his shoulder. 

Or he _would_ have if his wrist wasn’t broken. And his head wasn’t killing him. _And_ if his back wasn’t spasming. 

But he _did_ manage to pull the sheet over his chest. It didn’t quite reach to where he liked it to rest under his beak, but he’d pulled it up. Indignantly. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mallard. I wish we could discharge you, but the fact that your head hasn’t stopped hurting may be a sign of something more serious. It’s only one night of observation—” 

“Yeah, on Christmas Eve.” 

The doctor smiled in sympathy. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be here, too.” 

“It doesn’t,” Drake muttered. 

“Well.” The doctor shrugged. “I’ll leave you, then. We need you to rest as much as you can, so I’ll be turning out all the lights in here and I’ll need you to keep the TV off.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” Drake groused, glaring up at the doctor. “Just lie here in the dark alone on Christmas Eve?” 

“Our nurses are down the hall and will check on you every few hours to make sure you’re all right.” 

Drake crossed his good arm over his chest and glared straight ahead. 

“If you need anything, push the call button on your bed. Try to rest, Mr. Mallard. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, the doctor left, softly shutting the door behind him after shutting the lights off. 

Drake continued to stare ahead at the blank wall with one framed photo of a seaside mounted in the exact center. Not that he could see the seaside _now_ with all the lights off, but he could make out the dark outline of the frame and he knew it was there. Taunting him. Like it somehow _knew_ water that had been Drake’s downfall. 

Not a villain. 

Not some selfless act of heroism. 

Just an accident where Drake had slipped on ice, broken his wrist, threw out his back, and smacked his head so hard on the pavement that the doctor wanted to keep him in the hospital overnight. 

Of all the ways to go. 

And now he wouldn’t even be home for Christmas. Gosalyn and Launchpad would have to celebrate without him. Not that Gos would have many gifts to open. That’s where Drake had been, finishing up his shopping. Christmas had snuck up on him this year; between fighting off all the villains over the past few weeks and decorating for the holiday and working with S.H.U.S.H. on some new crime fighting tactics, he’d just run out of time. 

Cue rushing around on Christmas Eve, slipping on a patch of ice outside the mall and falling backwards. He’d thrown out his hand to break his fall and was aware of a sharp pain in that wrist as he’d made contact with the ground before blacking out.

Christmas was stupid. 

He hated it. There was _no point_ to it. All it brought on was stress and worry and a crazy amount of pressure to out-do yourself from last year. 

The last reason might just be a Drake thing, though. He’d always been competitive, _especially_ with himself. 

A soft knock on his door made Drake tear his eyes off the shadow of the painting and look at the intruder. 

It was Launchpad, smiling and looking sheepish as he ducked into the room. “Visitin’ hours are almost over, but I wanted to see ya all the same. How ya feelin’?” He glanced back down the hall then closed the door behind him. 

“Peachy,” Drake grumbled, burrowing down further under his sheet. “I get to stay _here_ for Christmas.” 

“They told me,” Launchpad said, his voice gentle. Sympathetic. “Sorry, DW.” 

Drake closed his eyes, not wanting Launchpad’s sympathy. He wanted to go _home_. He wanted to see his daughter and forget this whole thing ever happened. 

Speaking of….

“You’d better get home, LP. Bad enough _I’m_ stuck here and can’t be with Gos. I don’t want her to be alone on Christmas Eve.” 

“Well, that’s the thing….” Launchpad said, his dark outline shifting side to side at the foot of Drake’s bed. 

Drake was immediately on high alert, sitting up and ignoring the twinge in his back. “What did she do?” Drake asked, already running through the possibilities and how he’d be able to break out of the hospital to get to her. 

“I resent that!” came an all too familiar voice. A small head popped up at the foot of the bed next to Launchpad. “Who says I’ve done anything?” 

“Gosalyn Mallard!” Drake scowled, but just seeing her — well, the general shape of her — already soothed his frayed nerves. “What are you doing here, young lady?” 

“Gee, it’s almost like my Dad’s in the hospital or something,” she said, tone laced with sarcasm. 

“Why’d you sneak in?” Drake pressed, highly suspicious. When it came to Gosalyn, it was always safe to question everything. “Why not come in with Launchpad like normal?” 

“Because if the nurses don’t know I’m here, they can’t ask me to leave,” Gosalyn said, sounding entirely too smug for her own good. 

“They… what?” Drake asked. attributing his inability to grasp the concept to his possible brain injury. 

“Like I’m gonna let you stay here alone. It’s _Christmas Eve_ , Dad.” 

“Which is why you should go home with Launchpad. You can at least have Christmas morning at home—” 

“Without _you_?” Gosalyn asked, her head shaking side to side. “No way.” 

Drake sighed and glanced at Launchpad. “LP?” 

“I only signed myself in on the visitor’s log. I’ll be back in the morning to take you both home.” Launchpad moved to the door, saying, “Merry Christmas, DW.” Not waiting for Drake to protest, Launchpad left, closing the door behind him. 

Gosalyn walked around the bed, coming to stand by Drake. He could just make out her large green eyes from the lights emitting from the heart monitor. 

“Did you put him up to this?” Drake asked, something in him wanting to fight even though having Gosalyn with him for the night was already making him feel better. 

“He didn’t fight me much,” Gosalyn said, eyes tracking over him. “Are you in pain?” 

“Nah. The doctor just wants to keep me here for observation.” 

“That doesn’t _sound_ good, Dad.” 

“I’m fine, Gos.” Drake shifted, ignoring how his back protested. “Go home with Launchpad. There’ll be nothing for you to do; I can’t even have the TV on.” 

“But _you’re_ here,” Gosalyn said. “Can I lay next to you or will it hurt too much?” 

“Gosalyn—” 

“Dad. I’m not leaving.” 

Drake glared at her in the dark. He saw her cross her arms and that just wasn’t fair, one of his arms was in a _cast_. 

“You won’t hurt me,” he finally said, his need to have her close winning over his want to do what was best for her. 

As Gosalyn climbed up onto his bed, he said, “The nurse is supposed to check on me every few hours.” 

“I’ll duck under the bed or something,” Gosalyn said, settling next to Drake and snuggling into his chest. She hadn’t grown much in the past two years since Drake had adopted her, so she fit perfectly at his side. Selfishly, Drake wished she’d stay this size forever, but he knew she was due for a growth spurt soon.

“Not much of a Christmas Eve,” Drake said, carefully shifting onto his side and wrapping his good arm around her. “Waking up and hiding every few hours.” 

“Eh, it’s not so bad,” Gosalyn said, tugging the sheet up over her. “Besides, we’ll go home tomorrow, right? _Then_ we can celebrate Christmas.” 

Drake sighed. “It’s gonna be a rough Christmas across the board, kiddo. I wasn’t able to get you much—” 

“Dad,” Gosalyn said, lifting her head to look at him. “I don’t care. I just want _you_. Now stop talking and rest. Wake me up when the nurse comes in.” She curled into him, one of her hands gripping his hospital gown. 

Drake tightened his hold on her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before burying his face in her hair. 

As always, Gosalyn had made Drake question which of them was the parent. Because what did it matter that he didn’t have gifts? They had one another. And that’s what mattered. 

He didn’t have the heart to wake Gosalyn when the nurse came in. He prepared himself for a fight because now that he had her, there was no way Drake was letting Gosalyn go, but the nurse just smiled. She said she had kids of her own and gave him a wink before assuring him that no one would ask Gosalyn to leave. 

After knowing his daughter was safe, Drake managed to get a few hours of sleep himself, wrapped protectively around his daughter. 

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

So, yeah. 

This Christmas was better than that one. But not by much. 

Drake would never get used to _Negaduck_ being in his home. 

But it could’ve gone worse, he supposed.

Which he would take with him to his _grave_ because if Gosalyn knew he hadn’t been _completely_ miserable the _entire_ time, she’d never let him live it down. 


	27. "Santa Claus Got Stuck In My Chimney" by Ella Fitzgerald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I heard the song, this scene wrote itself.

Max’s heart started racing as soon as he opened the front door. 

For all the right reasons.

“Hey,” he said with a grin. “Everything all right?” 

“Absolutely,” Gosalyn said, crossing the threshold and kissing him on the cheek. “Are you free for a few hours?” 

Max eyed her. “You have that scheming look on your face.” 

“Told you,” Drake said, sending Gosalyn a smirk. Turing to Max, he said, “Thank you for proving that _I_ was right.” 

Gosalyn rolled her eyes. “Dad thinks I need to be less expressive.” 

“Your job is based on stealth and the element of surprise,” Drake said. “It’s not a _surprise_ if your enemies _know_ what you’re thinking.” 

Gosalyn leaned in close to Max. “He’s a little cranky. Negaduck is staying at the Tower for a few—” 

“Is he okay?” Max asked. It wasn’t like the villain to accept charity. Or stay in the Prime Universe any longer than he had to. 

“Why do you think I need your help?” Gosalyn asked brightly. Too brightly. Something _was_ wrong. 

Maybe Drake wasn’t entirely off the mark in wanting his daughter to be more covert. 

“Is Goofy around?” Gosalyn asked, not so subtly changing the subject as she glanced around the interior of the house. “We could use all the help we could get.” 

“He’s here,” Max said. “And we’ll help with whatever you’re planning, but I just gotta… you know. Get Dad out of the chimney first.” 

A moment of silence passed before Drake said, “I’m sorry, _what_?” 

“Dad’s stuck in the chimney,” Max said. “With our plastic Santa.” 

“Is he okay?” Gosalyn asked, unwittingly echoing Max’s words. Not waiting for an answer, she walked into the living room. 

“He’s fine,” Max called after her. “Just need to get him out.” 

Drake’s left eye started to twitch, which he covered by rubbing at it furiously. “I’m gonna… go get Launchpad,” he said, turning and walking back down the driveway to the idling car at the curb. 

Max closed the front door and followed Gosalyn’s path into the living room where he found her kneeling in front of the fireplace, leaning forward and having a conversation with Goofy. She was laughing, Max’s breath catching when she caught his eye and shook her head fondly. Sometimes Max _ached_ with how deeply he felt for her. 

Walking up behind her, Max sent her a smile. Gosalyn sat back on her heels and said, “My gear’s in the car. I have a grappling hook arrow I can use to repel down into the chimney and tie around Goofy. Then we can pull him out through the top. Someone’s gonna have to be in here to catch Santa when he falls, though.” 

“I can do that,” Max said, leaning close to the chimney. “You hear the plan, Dad?” 

“Sure did, a-hyuck! Yer girlfriend’s mighty clever there, Maxie.” 

Max glanced at Gosalyn with a smirk. “Oh, she knows.” 

She rolled her eyes with a smile as she stood. “I’ll go tell Dad and Launchpad what’s going on. Then you two can come with us for awhile, yeah?” 

Max shrugged and called, “We have anything planned tonight, Dad?”

“Not’s far as I can remember,” Goofy said. “Gosie stayin’ fer dinner?” 

“She’s taking us somewhere,” Max said. 

“I need your help with something, Mr. Goof,” Gosalyn said. “We can talk about it when you’re not stuck in a chimney.” 

“Oh, this has happened before,” Goofy said happily. “I don’t mind talkin’, it passes the time.” 

Gosalyn glanced at Max who nodded. “It’s really not the first time this has happened.” 

Gosalyn chuckled. “I’ll go get my gear.” 

Max followed her out to the hall, asking in a low voice, “Will you tell me what’s wrong once we get Dad out?” 

“What makes you think anything’s wrong?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. 

“Aside from _Negaduck_ staying in Darkwing Tower? You. Drake’s right, Gos, you’re not good at hiding your thoughts.” 

“I don’t see why that’s such a _bad_ thing,” Gosalyn muttered, spinning on her heel and opening the front door. 

Max reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her. “I didn’t say it _was_ a bad thing,” he soothed. “Just that you suck at it.” 

Gosalyn’s beak turned up in a half smile. Squeezing his hand, she said, “I’ll tell you. But can I save your father first?” 

“I guess.” Max pulled her into his chest, giving her a hug. “Thanks.” 

“ _Someone’s_ gotta help him,” Gosalyn said, affection warming her tone. 

“I don’t just mean for saving Dad.” 

Gosalyn nestled further into his embrace before stepping back. “Sap.” 

“ _Your_ sap.” 

Gosalyn’s plan went off without a hitch, Goofy hoisted out the top of the chimney, the plastic Santa falling down into the fireplace once he was free. 

After Goofy had changed out of his sooty clothes and grabbed some Christmas cookies for their journey, everyone settled into the car, Launchpad driving them to Duckburg. 

“I gotta ask,” Drake said, turning around in the passenger seat to look at Goofy. “Why’re you already taking down decorations? I’d think you of all people would keep them up past the New Year.” 

“I do,” Goofy said. “But Santy can’t stay up after Christmas. His job’s done ‘till next year. So I take him and the reindeer down early.” 

Drake shrugged and accepted a cookie when Goofy held out the bag to him. 


	28. "Trim Up The Tree" from How The Grinch Stole Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got real angsty a few stories ago (”All I Want For Christmas Is You”) and this is my attempt to try and fix it.

Negaduck would be so pissed if he knew how many people were in his house. But he didn’t need to know the number. Or who _specifically_ was here. Christmas was the one time of year when you could use magic as an excuse for anything untoward happening. 

So, magic. 

Not ten people coming and going as they put the house back together. 

Negaduck was still in the Prime Universe, anyway. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

“I’ll build that,” Gosalyn said to Goofy who was carrying a piece of what would become a bed frame up the stairs. 

“I don’t mind puttin’ it together—” 

“Dad,” Max said, his tone patient. “We’re not supposed to go in the bedroom.” 

“Well, okay. But if ya change yer mind, I’ll be more’n happy to do it fer ya.” 

“I appreciate it,” Gosalyn called as Goofy ascended the stairs and set the bed frame in the hallway. He loped back down the stairs and out to the truck that Gosalyn had commandeered to bring the furniture to the house. 

“Sorry,” Max said, rearranging his grip on the kitchen chairs he was carrying. “He gets excited about building things.” 

“Usually I’d let him,” Gosalyn said, looking up at Max. “But Negaduck’s bedroom is… private. I feel weird going in there.” 

“Once he sees everything, he’s not gonna care that you were in his room, Gos.” 

She sighed. “I hope not.” 

“Okay,” Max nodded and glanced toward the kitchen. “I’m gonna go set these down and then we can talk about this.” 

“There’s no _time_ for talking,” she said. 

Max frowned and Gosalyn led him into the kitchen so he didn’t have to stand in the hallway holding the chairs any longer than necessary. 

Once he’d set them down, she gently placed her hands on the sides of his face. “I appreciate you, so very much, but we really need to get this done and get out of here. I _promise_ we can talk about all of this later, yeah?” 

Max leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. “You won’t change the subject or pretend it’s resolved when it isn’t?” 

Gosalyn withheld a wince; he knew her so well, maybe a little _too_ well. “If I do, you’ll call me out on it.” 

“That’s not much of an answer,” Max said, sighing. “But all right.” 

Gosalyn smiled softly as she met his soft brown eyes. “Love you.” 

Max brought his arms around her in a hug. “Love you, too.” 

He walked back to the truck, Gosalyn following and continuing to direct traffic as Scrooge, Donald, Huey, Dewey, Louie, Launchpad, Drake, Goofy, and Max helped move in the new furniture. 

Gosalyn had initially been planning to just swap out Negaduck’s old furniture for new as his Christmas present this year, but then he’d set his house on fire so she’d had to do an entire reconstruction. Using handymen from the Negaverse, she’d managed to get the building back up to code, rewiring everything, putting in new plumbing, and a central heating and cooling system. The works. She’d pretty much had crews working around the clock for the past few days, but the promise of Negaduck no longer bothering the work crews or their families after this job was done had been enough to motivate them crews to work through the night. 

That and the expensive goods Gosalyn was giving them for their trouble. 

The real challenge had been keeping Negaduck away from the Negaverse. 

She’d come up with flimsy excuses of finding a hideout for Negaduck within the Prime Universe before he went back home. He and Drake felt uncomfortable with Negaduck crashing in Darkwing Tower, so it hadn’t been hard to convince the Masked Menace to find a place of his own. 

He’d found a few potentials and was staking them out today, but he planed on returning to the Negaverse tonight, regardless if he found a new hideout or not. And Gosalyn couldn’t keep him away forever, even if she used her most concerned expression and made her eyes real big, saying, “You don’t have a _home_. Please find a hideout _here_ then we can find you a new house _there_. One universe at a time, Papa Wolf.”

That line had only worked a few times. Even then, he was probably humoring her. 

So, tonight. 

Most of the house was finished, at least. She just had to put his bedroom together then she could send him a text in that horrendously complicated texting system he’d made her memorize, and let him know she was waiting for him in the Negaverse. 

Then she’d see what he’d say to her rebuilding his house without his input. Or supervision. 

She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Max that Negaduck was private. There were hideouts he refused to take her to. Parts of the house he didn’t like her in. He’d lived on his own for years and was only now learning to make room for someone else. 

And he’d had to hide away parts of his life so no one would find them and exploit him. 

Which Oblivion had made worse. He thought everything through so _carefully_ before pulling the trigger — literally and figuratively — on anything now. Hid any sign that he’d been anywhere, even going so far as to hide his tracks in the snow or avoiding puddles so he wouldn’t track any water. He was contemplative. Didn’t set off any explosions unless he was absolutely sure of his success. 

He’d broken out of _that_ to burn his house down. 

But Gosalyn had _fixed_ it. 

Did he want her to, though? A year back together had done little to bridge this weird gap in their relationship. She couldn’t read him like she used to. 

So, honestly, who knew how this house transformation would go? 

“Whaddya say to ice skating tomorrow?” Max said, leaning in the doorway in between the living room and the hall with a smile. The frame didn’t bend under his weight. Gosalyn would need to adjust to this new house as much as Negaduck would. 

“Are you seriously asking me out on a date when we have to put a whole house together?” she asked. 

“It’s all done,” Max said, glancing around. “We’re just putting up the decorations now. But ice skating? We were interrupted last time.” 

“Because we weren’t supposed to _be there_ ,” Gosalyn said. 

Was the house really done? That meant Negaduck was all the closer to seeing it. 

And Gosalyn would find out if she really knew him as well as she once did. 

“It’ll be official now,” Max said, walking over to her. “And totally legal. And it’ll get that worry off your face.” 

Gosalyn smiled nervously. “I’ll know how much he hates this by then. No need to worry when I know he’s upset.” 

“He won’t hate it,” Max reassured her, setting his hands on her shoulders. 

“I don’t—” 

“You gave him his home back, Gos,” Max said, looking her in the eye. “He’ll probably be surprised, but he won’t hate anything.” 

Gosalyn took a deep breath before saying, “I used to know that. But ever since Oblivion…. I’m not sure of anything anymore.” 

Max brought up a hand to stroke her cheek. “A place like that would change anyone who visits. Doesn’t mean you don’t know him. Or that his feelings towards you have changed. You two just have to get used to each other again.” 

“It’s been a _year_ already,” Gosalyn said. “How long is this supposed to take?” 

“As long as it needs to. Which I know isn’t much of an answer or one you want to hear right now. But you can’t put a time limit on this. One day, out of nowhere, things’ll just click again. And if they don’t, that’s okay because I know you’ll keep trying and that’s all that matters.” 

Gosalyn pressed herself to Max’s chest and was immediately enveloped in his arms. He cradled the back of her head with one hand and some of her insecurity fell away. It would return when she was facing down Negaduck, but for now, she felt sure in her decision making. If Max believed in her, then maybe there was something to this. 

“Are you two gonna make out?” came Huey’s voice from the direction of the living room. 

“Oh, _gross_ ,” said Louie. 

“Boys,” said Scrooge, his voice stern. 

Max and Gosalyn stepped away from one another and faced the others.

“We weren’t _making out_ ,” Gosalyn said, the mere thought of doing so in Negaduck’s home sending a jolt of discomfort down her spine. 

“But you tend to see in others what you want for yourself,” Max said with a smirk. Dewey laughed as Huey and Louie blushed before grabbing the Jack Skellington garland to weave it through the banister. 

Max glanced down to Gosalyn. “So. Ice skating tomorrow?” 

She smiled softly. “Sounds good.” 

“I can show of _my_ moves for once,” Max said, grinning. “And we can talk more about all of this. _And_ you can tell me how much Negaduck didn’t hate it at all.” 

“That’s a lot of talking,” Gosalyn said, but somehow was already looking forward to it.

“Learned from the best,” Max motioned to Goofy who was walking by them. 

“Sure did!” Goofy threw an arm around Max’s shoulders. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna get resolved if ya don’t talk ‘bout it.” Max nodded in agreement before Goofy tousled his hair. 

“This is a lot of skulls for Christmas,” Drake groused, glancing around at the decorations. “It’s a lot of skulls in general.” 

“Good thing it’s not your house,” Gosalyn said, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s got ya there, DW,” Launchpad said. 

The last of the Christmas decorations up, Gosalyn escorted everyone back to Duckburg so they could return to their own universe. With goodbyes and promises of favors returned, Gosalyn saw them off. 

But Drake lingered. “Everything okay?” he asked. 

Gosalyn shrugged. “I don’t know how Negaduck’s gonna react, but otherwise, yes.” 

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, but I’m here if it all goes south.” 

Gosalyn took his hand and squeezed it with a smile. 

“But anything that gets him out of the Tower is something I support,” Drake said. “I’ll make him like it.” 

“Always thinking of others.” 

“It’s in my nature,” Drake preened, but he sobered as he observed her. “But really. It’s gonna be fine.” 

Gosalyn hugged him. Even if Negaduck hated it, if Gosalyn had miscalculated, she’d have this. She was always safe here, with her father. 

Separating, Gosalyn said, “Get going so they can close the portal. I have a bed frame to build.” 

Drake shuddered. “Glad LP and I don’t have to put that together. I don’t think we’ve recovered from building LP’s new one a few months ago.” 

“See? I’m doing this to help you. Guess altruism runs in the family.” 

Drake smiled. “Looks like it, sweetheart. Tell me how this goes?” 

“Of course.” 

With a nod, Drake disappeared through the door. 

Gosalyn returned to the house on Avian Way and got to work. When she had Negaduck’s room more or less together, she texted him and walked around the house, just to make sure everything was ready. 

And hoped with every step that she hadn’t made a huge mistake. 


	29. "Spirit Of The Season" from The Polar Express

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Fairyhaven13 who asked for something from The Polar Express. And for Amelia because she loves Launchpad more than anyone. 
> 
> Apologies for making you all wait one more day to find out what Negaduck thinks of his Christmas present! I thought this flow worked better in the long run.

Before the group left the Negaverse, Gos had pulled Launchpad aside, telling him, “I’m officially putting you in charge of getting everyone home.” 

Launchpad glanced back at the group, watching as they all began filing through the portal. “Y’sure about that, Gos? DW would—” 

“Let the job go to his head. Look, Scrooge is the first one you’ll say goodbye to with the portal in Duckburg, so he’s out. And Max is staying with Goofy for the holidays, so it’s just you and Dad who are traveling to every city. So, it has to be you.” She smiled up at him. “I trust you, Launchpad. And I’m sure everyone in the group does, too.” 

He was sure Mr. McD and DW would argue if they heard that, but Gos didn’t lie to him anymore. Not since he’d figured out that she was visiting Negaduck in the Negaverse all those years ago. 

So, he had to trust her now. Even though he was sure there was someone else better suited for the job. 

Didn’t mean he wouldn’t take his duties seriously. 

Their car was awaiting them all at Duckburg right where they’d left it parked outside of Gyro’s workshop. Goofy, Max, and DW all piled in, Launchpad starting up the engine so they could wait in comfort. But he waited with the McDuck clan outside until they were picked up by Duckworth and driven back to the mansion. 

Max and Goofy were next on the drop off list, Launchpad taking them up to the driveway of their Spoonerville house. 

“Are all your Santas put away for the year?” DW asked, eyeing the decorated house warily. As if a plastic Santa was gonna leap out and kidnap one of the Goofs right then and there. 

“A-hyuck! Sure are.” Goofy looked back at his house with pride. 

“When d’you take the rest of the decorations down?” Launchpad asked. 

“Oh, sometime’n January,” Goofy said. 

“Dad’ll usually keep them up until the second week,” Max said. 

“Give me a call when you’re gonna put everything away,” Launchpad said, looking over to Goofy. “I can give you a hand.” 

“‘Preciate it!” Goofy said with a grin. 

“We’ll still see you on New Year’s Eve?” DW asked, carefully avoiding an invitation to take down the decorations. Launchpad smiled knowingly. DW might seem a little standoffish, but Launchpad knew that if they truly needed the help, he’d be there. 

“We’ll see you then, Mr. Mallard. Thanks or the ride, Launchpad!” Max said, bending almost double to peer into the car. 

Launchpad smiled and waved to the Goofs as he reversed down the drive and headed back to St. Canard. 

It wasn’t ordinarily a scenic drive, but Christmas effected everything, including the freeways connecting each city to the other. Digital signs expressed warm holiday wishes and urged drivers to use caution and be safe. Overpasses had been adorned with wreaths. The stores and buildings they passed by all had lights and trees shining brightly in their displays. 

What caught Launchpad’s attention was the change in decorations from one town to the next. Duckburg had the most impressive decorations, as it always seemed to. Lights were the brighter LED strands, some streets were color coordinated, and nothing was left untouched by some sort of elaborate and bright Christmas decoration. 

Spoonerville was more quaint with large ribbons and big bulbs and each tree and wreath real pine. There was authenticity and tradition, some of the shop decorations clearly handed down through the generations. What Spoonerville lacked in lighting it made up for in texture and the richness of colors.

And then there was St. Canard, with Audubon Bridge lined with white string lights. Not as high tech as Duckburg or as homey as Spoonerville, the city was nostalgic while also making way for the future. Some LED and digital lights that changed colors if you watched them long enough had started to arrive. But, on the other hand, the same exact decorations had been put up on the traffic lights since Launchpad had moved to the city almost two decades ago. 

All three cities were in full celebration, but they all had a different view of the holiday. 

Duckburg was all about innovation. 

Spoonverville was traditional. 

St. Canard was somewhere in the middle. 

And Launchpad preferred his city over the others. 

He, like the downtown area they were driving through, saw the importance of moving forward but was wise enough to look back to history for guidance and answers. 

Launchpad glanced over to DW, who was slumped in the passenger seat, fighting off sleep. “I love when the city’s decorated for Christmas,” he told his best friend. 

Because, even with all of Launchpad’s friends, old and new, DW was the one he felt closest to. He’d given Launchpad his dream job as a hero’s sidekick, a family, and a home. 

DW shrugged as he glanced out his window. “It’s all right. But you love anything to do with Christmas.” 

“No argument there,” Launchpad said, taking in all the lights and colors as he turned into their neighborhood. 

DW was right. Launchpad did love all things Christmas. But he loved spending it in St. Canard most of all. 


	30. "Believing Is Seeing" from The Santa Clause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For rubbersoles19 because she loves the angst, teh-bluejay leviprime BookwormGal, Fairyhaven13, and Flowing Tears because they’ve been so supportive, viridianrebooted because your art gave me the inspiration for Negaduck’s final line of dialogue in this scene, and Amelia because she loves these two characters most of all.

He slowly stumbled home, every now and then stopping to try and gasp down some air or steady his racing heart.

She’d seen his house. Witnessed for herself how very far he’d fallen. 

And had decided it was enough. 

Because she wanted to “meet”. That was all she’d sent him. _“I’m at your house. Can you meet me here?”_

Negaduck wasn’t exactly familiar with texting lingo, but he knew enough to understand that this wasn’t _good_. 

But he kept going. 

Kept pushing onward through the Negaverse. 

Because he could deny her nothing. 

Not even this. 

Truth be told, he’d always been waiting for this moment. From the beginning. The end to the best thing that had ever happened to him. He’d started to believe that maybe she was different. That perhaps she’d stick around after all. 

But then he went to Oblivion and he fell further away from grace. 

Sure, she’d traveled to hundreds of worlds looking for him. Yes, she had brought him home. Saved him in every sense of the word. 

But he was a _mess_. Haunted by PTSD and unable to adequately deal with or express how he was feeling. 

So, yeah. 

He understood. 

Negaduck didn’t want to be bothered with himself, either. 

But that didn’t mean this wasn’t gonna hurt like hell. 

He stood in the driveway of his home until he was completely numb from the cold. 

Because if he didn’t go in, she couldn’t leave him. 

But she was waiting. 

And had asked him to come. 

Fool that he was, Negaduck inhaled a shaky breath and walked inside. 

Immediately he knew something was wrong. His front door was heavier, took more force to open than normal. Had Gosalyn _replaced_ the door? _Why_ would she—?

All thoughts of the door were banished from his mind when he glanced inside. 

Because it was all fine. 

Better than _fine_. 

The staircase’s railing wasn’t cracked and splintering. 

The steps weren’t sagging. They weren’t charred to a crisp, a shell of their former existence. 

Coming fully into the house, he closed the heavier door behind him, too intrigued to consider that no cold was seeping in through the no longer crooked doorjamb. 

The living room looked like it had been lifted straight out of a magazine with a dark leather couch, matching armchairs, and a roaring fire in the fireplace he’d forgotten he owned. There was a Christmas tree with the orange string lights, red and gold ornaments, black ribbon and bows. 

No.

But—

The fire had destroyed all of that. _He_ had destroyed _everything_. How…?

_How_?

Stumbling down the hall to the kitchen — over smooth floorboards that didn’t creak from years of abuse — he blinked at seeing a complete kitchen set. The chairs and table were sturdy, not duct taped together or stained from the aftermath of all of Negaduck’s rampages. The cabinets hung straight, every one of them complete with their own doors and handles. There were functioning appliances and countertops that wouldn’t disintegrate if you gave them a dirty look. 

Confused and a little unsettled, Negaduck back-tracked. Climbed the stairs — the solid, non-squeaking stairs with the garland full of skulls interwoven around the banister — and went to his room. 

Where he found a huge bed, headboard not cracked and mattress parallel to the floor instead of lopsided and flat from years of (mis)use. There was an easy chair near the closet and a desk by the door. His chest of drawers was standing tall with all the drawers neatly tucked away. 

What in the _hell_?

Someone cleared their throat behind Negaduck and he was so _floored_ by everything that he forgot to be startled by the fact that he wasn’t alone. 

But it was just Gosalyn, standing in the hall with a hesitant smile. 

She shrugged and said, “Santa made one last stop before returning to the North Pole.” 

“Bullshit. There’s no way I’ve been good enough for… _this_ ,” Negaduck said. 

Her smile faltered and her brow furrowed. “Do you hate it?” 

Negaduck stared at her. “Do I—?”

“Did you want to move to a new house all together? I didn’t even ask. I just assumed you’d want to stay…. I already had all the furniture, so when you told me the house was gone, I thought why not fix it all? The whole house? But I can help you move if that’s what you want. Or we can redecorate if I didn’t make the right style choices. Or, you know, we can just set the whole thing on fire again if it’s that bad. You’re not… saying anything and it’s kind of freaking me out. If you hate it, then just tell me—” 

Negaduck didn’t hear the end to her sentence. 

Because he swept forward and scooped her up into a fierce hug. She only hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace, her grip unwavering. 

She didn’t want to push him away.

“You did all of this over a few _days_?” he asked, still holding on tight. 

She didn’t want to leave.

“Santa and his elves did,” Gosalyn said, her tone light and he knew she was smiling. 

She was rebuilding what he had destroyed.

Holding onto her all the tighter, he said, “Was this why I couldn’t come home?” 

If he could’ve been bothered to look outside his own self-imposed problems, he might have realized what was actually going on.

“Pretty lame excuse, right? Finding a new hideout?”

God, he loved this girl. So much it nearly suffocated him. 

Negaduck set Gosalyn back down on her feet and was pleased to see she was still smiling at him. “Never know when I’ll destroy another hideout, so it’s for the best I have backups,” he said. 

“That’s kind of what I was thinking,” Gosalyn said, pointing to the furniture in his room. “You have all of this to tear apart and beat up now. So when you come over for Christmas again, you can just dismantle your bed or something. I’d prefer you talk to me, or tell me when you’re feeling uncomfortable with something. But if not, then there’s so much to destroy before you set anything on fire.” 

Negaduck watched her as she spoke, how her hands flew around, the way her facial expression changed with each new thought. He felt the gentleness in his eyes, how his beak was quirked up in a soft smile. 

And all because of her. 

“So,” Gosalyn said, meeting Negaduck’s eyes. “You don’t hate it?” 

He turned to look back into his bedroom where the wind didn’t whistle through the windows and the walls weren’t discolored from mildew. “I don’t hate it.” 

Gosalyn hugged him from behind, her head resting near his shoulder. 

Catching sight of the wreath on the front of his bedroom door, Negaduck sighed. “Still exhausting dealing with all this Christmas crap every year.” 

“But I was right, wasn’t I?” she said. “It’s worth it.” 

Negaduck glanced down and met her gaze. “You were right.” 

She smiled and nestled her head against his shoulder as he brought up a hand to pat her forearm. 

Negaduck sure as hell didn’t deserve Gosalyn. 

But he would never stop being grateful that she decided he was worth fighting for. 


	31. "Auld Lang Syne" by Barenaked Ladies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!! 
> 
> This is it, folks! The end of the line! Thank you so much for everyone who read, liked, reblogged, and commented on these stories; I appreciate everyone’s support! 
> 
> A big thank you to teh-bluejay, rubbersoles19, leviprime, raidenraccoon, tempest-loupnoir, viridianrebooted, Bookworm Gal, and Fairyhaven13, for your support and for giving me prompts to work on; they were a lot of fun and I hope they were what you were hoping for. 
> 
> This last chapter is dedicated to leviprime because domestic fluff was what you asked for (especially the Goofs) and there’s never enough of that. 
> 
> And Amelia I do not have words for you. There are not enough to describe my gratitude for everything you are and all you mean to me.

Drake tossed the garbage bag inside the can sitting on his curb and glanced around the neighborhood. 

It had snowed on and off since Christmas, covering everything in a white blanket and giving the air a bite to the already low temperatures. Even now, in the darkness of the night, he saw gentle snowfall illuminated by the streetlights nearby. Drake found the city was at its most peaceful when it was snowing, and he reveled in it. He was able to clear his head and enjoy his surroundings. 

“You’ll become Darkwing Popsicle if you stay out here much longer.” 

Drake whirled around, slipping on the icy drive, and nearly toppling over as he searched for the phantom voice. 

Negaduck was cackling at him from the Muddlefoot’s shrubs. “Terror that flaps in the night my ass. More like terrified and flapping in the night.” 

“What are you doing here?” Drake hissed. He’d had nightmares that started like this. He was sure of it. 

“None of your business, Dorkwing.” 

“You’re spying on me from my neighbor’s yard. I’d say this is _definitely_ my business.” Drake glared at Negaduck, slightly impressed that he’d managed to hide in the bushes so well. 

Negaduck scoffed. “Like I’d _ever_ spy on _you_ , Doltwing.” 

The pieces of the puzzle clicked together and Drake had to admit, that did make more sense. “She’s inside with Max.” 

“It’s not that I don’t _trust_ you,” Negaduck sneered, “but I don’t trust you.” 

Drake raised an eyebrow. “You want to see her for yourself.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Don’t bring her out here. It’s freezing.” 

“Who said anything about her coming out here? Meet me at the back door in five minutes.” 

Negaduck blinked. 

“Unless you suddenly want to trust me,” Drake said with a smirk. 

Negaduck scowled. “Never.” 

“Five minutes.” Drake walked back up to the house, not looking back. 

The warmth that enveloped him when he stepped back into his house was almost a shock to his system. It really _was_ freezing outside. He should’ve grabbed his coat, even though he’d only gone down to the drive and back, but then he’d have to admit that Gosalyn had been right, which he’d _never_ do. 

Running his hands up and down his arms to chase away the lingering cold, Drake stepped into the living room. Where Launchpad and Goofy had on _New Year’s Rockin’ Eve_ and Max and Gosalyn were pouring over through their new comic book series, exchanging theories and reviewing their favorite parts. 

Standing in the doorway, Drake said, “Gos, can you help me?” 

Launchpad and Goofy immediately stood. 

“I can help ya, DW,” Launchpad offered. 

“Least I can do is help,” Goofy said. 

Drake held up a hand. “No. I’d rather keep my house _standing_ , thanks. Gos?” He walked back to the kitchen and glanced out into the night. Unsure if Negaduck had already made his way around to the backyard, he cracked open the door just in case. 

“What’s up, Dad?” Gosalyn said as she came into the kitchen. 

“Just stay here for a few minutes.” Drake sat at the kitchen table, eyes on the door. 

“Do you mind if I close the door?” Gosalyn asked, walking over to it. “It’s freezing out there.” 

“Then let me in first,” came Negaduck’s voice before Drake had a chance to protest. 

Gosalyn stepped back as Negaduck walked in, dressed in a yellow parka. He’d managed to close the door before Gosalyn had grabbed him in a hug. Which, surprisingly, the Masked Menace melted into. Drake had only ever seen Negaduck as his arch-iest of arch nemeses. Temperamental. Violent. Unforgiving. 

But he was different around Gosalyn. Softer. More accepting. 

Drake imagined he was likely the same. He knew he could be difficult to work with, but things were _easier_ with Gosalyn next to him. It made sense if Negaduck experienced the same thing. 

Stepping back, Gosalyn studied Negaduck’s face. “Are you okay?” she asked. 

He nodded. “Happy New Year, kid.” 

“That’s it?” Drake groused. “You almost gave me a heart attack hiding in the Muddlefoot’s bushes.” 

Negaduck glanced over to Drake. “That was hilarious.” 

“Why were you hiding in the bushes?” Gosalyn asked. 

“ _This_ ,” Negaduck motioned to his yellow parka, “isn’t exactly discreet.” 

“And you had no plans to come inside,” Gosalyn said, crossing her arms over her chest and leveling Negaduck with a knowing look. 

“ _He_ dragged me in here!” Negaduck said, pointing at Drake. 

“ _You_ wouldn’t trust me!” Drake shot back. 

“Well,” Gosalyn said, wisely interrupting what would have turned into an argument, “now that you’re here, you’ll stay, right?” 

Negaduck blinked down at her, confusion in his gaze. “Stay?” 

“To ring in the New Year. Do you mind, Dad?” Gosalyn asked, turning to Drake. 

He shrugged. “I invited him in here. Might as well make a night of it.” 

She turned back to Negaduck, a grin on her beak. “You can meet Goofy! And Max, officially. I should probably let him know—” She turned to leave, but Negaduck grabbed her arm, stopping her. 

“I-I can’t stay,” he said, something like nervousness creeping into his expression. 

“Why not?” Gosalyn asked. Gently. 

Oh, she was good. 

Not passing judgement. 

Just asking. 

Negaduck was staying whether he wanted to or not. 

“I….Christmas is one thing. But New Year’s Eve?” the Masked Menace asked. 

“Why _not_ New Year’s Eve?” Gosalyn pressed. 

“I don’t know, I—” Negaduck took off his fedora and ran a hand through his feathers. 

“Take your parka off.” Gosalyn grabbed Negaduck’s hand and smiled at him. “Let’s start the new year together.” 

Negaduck continued to stare at Gosalyn, but his grip on her hand was firm, so Drake knew what his answer was going to be. Even before Negaduck did, it would seem, because the silence lingered. 

“Give it up. You can’t say ‘no’ to her,” Drake said, rising from his seat at the kitchen table. “Might as well just do what she says.” 

Negaduck bristled but his grip on Gosalyn’s hand didn’t waver. “I can do whatever I—” 

“Oh, get over yourself,” Drake said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m the same way. Which,” he pointed at Gosalyn who was smiling at him, “you never heard me say.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gosalyn said. She released Negaduck and threw her arms around Drake in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered before kissing his cheek. 

“I’ll go prepare everyone,” Drake said, squeezing her tightly before stepping back. “You take your time here.” He tweaked her beak before glancing at Negaduck. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” 

Negaduck scowled as Drake walked into the living room.

Max glanced up when he returned, but Goofy and Launchpad continued to watch the holiday special, unconcerned. 

“Everything okay, Mr. Mallard?” Max asked. Goofy and Launchpad looked up then and Drake realized the gravity of the situation at hand. 

A known criminal. 

Spending New Year’s Eve in his home. 

Totally normal, right? 

Soooo _not_. 

Except….

Maybe? 

He’d always worked better operating on the outskirts of normal. 

“Uh,” Drake cleared his throat. “Negaduck is here. And Gos and I might’ve invited him to stay for the rest of the evening.” 

Launchpad nodded, an easy smile on his beak. Honestly? Drake loved Launchpad. He didn’t say it enough, but he was the best friend the mallard had never thought to ask for because he’d never deserved him. 

Max glanced towards his father, who was beaming. 

“Haven’t had the chance to meet him yet,” Goofy said, unconcerned about meeting one of the most dangerous villains in St. Canard’s history. “This’ll be fun!” 

After gauging his father’s reaction, Max smiled and glanced at Drake. “Is Gos with him now?” 

“Are you guys gonna talk around me the entire time?” Negaduck groused, walking into the living room with Gosalyn beside him. He’d taken off his parka, but was otherwise in full regalia. Drake made eye contact with Launchpad, wondering how to proceed, as Max’s gaze once more locked onto his father. 

But Goofy leapt from the couch, loping over to Negaduck — who looked pretty apprehensive — with a grin. “I’ve heard a lot ‘boutcha! Name’s Goofy. I’m Maxie’s dad.” He held out a hand. “Sure is nice ta put a face to the name. Well, a-hyuck!” Goofy studied Negaduck’s mask. “In a manner of speakin’.” 

Negaduck just stared at Goofy, beak open but clearly at a loss for words. His right eye twitched and he rubbed it, but otherwise made no move to greet him. 

Max stood and came up behind his father. “Dad, he’s not really the touchy feely type.” He placed his hands on Goofy’s shoulders and glanced at Negaduck with a knowing smile. “Nice to see you again, Negaduck. More officially this time. Do you wanna take a seat? Relax?” 

Launchpad got up with a smile. “I’ll get more chairs from the kitchen.” 

“I’ll give ya a hand,” Goofy offered, still all smiles and not put off by Negaduck’s brooding silence at all. 

“You two break anything, I swear to God….” Drake threatened, following them to supervise. 

Negaduck never did sit. Or even fully relax. He sort of hovered on the edges of the living room the whole night, but Gosalyn and Max kept an eye on him. Goofy and Launchpad tried to engage him in conversation, but he just scowled or rolled his eyes each time. Drake kept himself busy playing the host and refusing help from everyone who offered (he almost had to beat Goofy down with a broom he was so eager to help). 

Because it kept him distracted from the fact that _he’d_ invited Negaduck to spend New Year’s Eve with his family. He had no one to blame for any of this except himself. And he _hated_ it when he didn’t have anyone to blame. 

As it drew closer to midnight, Drake distributed champagne flutes to everyone, including Negaduck. 

But he just stepped back and eyed it. 

Drake rolled his eyes. “I didn’t do anything to yours if that’s what you’re—” 

“No,” Negaduck said, tone harsh. “I don’t want any alcohol.” 

Drake immediately understood. He didn’t need further explanation. Not because he had caught something in Negaduck’s expression. Or heard something in his tone. 

Because Drake felt — and this was _weird_ — the same. 

Drake set the champagne flute on the mantle of the fireplace next to Negaduck, saying, “It’s sparkling cider.” With a shrug, he faced forward and studied everyone else, who were all talking happily amongst themselves. “I’ve never liked the smell of alcohol in my house.” 

A moment of silence passed before Negaduck quietly admitted, “Me neither.” He turned to level a glare at Drake. “You tell _anyone_ we have something in common, I will punch you straight in the bill.” 

“Fair enough,” Drake glanced at Negaduck with a smug smile as the countdown began. “But we don’t have just _one_ thing in common.” 

At the stroke of midnight, Drake valiantly ignored how Negaduck jumped in surprise when everyone wished each other a happy new year. Gos and Max shared a kiss. Goofy and Launchpad slapped one another on the back. Then they all made their rounds, wishing each gathered a happy new year. 

Negaduck kept a hand tucked in his cape — and undoubtedly on some weapon — and looked at everyone like they’d lost their minds. 

Except Gosalyn. Drake saw how soft Negaduck’s face went when she came up and smiled at him. 

Drake thought he heard her refer to Negaduck as “Papa Wolf”, but he squashed any sort of jealousy that tried to rise up. Because that term belonged to them. Whatever relationship they had was _theirs_ and he didn’t need to meddle. 

It didn’t lessen what Drake had with her. It didn’t mean Gos loved him any less. She’d alway had enough love to share. 

Which was confirmed when she hugged Drake with all her strength. A hug he easily returned. 

“Happy New Year, Dad,” Gosalyn said. 

“Happy New Year, Gos.” Drake kissed her forehead. She smiled at him when she stepped back before returning to the festivities. 

This wasn’t about learning to share Gosalyn. 

She wasn’t _his._ Because she didn’t _belong_ to him. She was her own person and belonged to herself. Who she decided to spend her time with was her business. 

But knowing she would always come back to him regardless of anything else that happened. Maybe that was enough. 

Yeah. 

It was enough. 


	32. FANART - Very Merry Geronimo Christmas Poster

The amazingly talented RubberSoles19 did a Poster for this series, which I will one day learn how to post on here. 

[Until then, click this link to see it!](http://rubbersoles19.tumblr.com/post/169495073817/a-very-merry-geronimo-christmas-fan-poster-just)


End file.
